Izzy's Curse
by Wandergirl108
Summary: Redemption lovers and Izzy Rogers fans, if there ARE any besides me, this is the story for you! Izzy haters: Read this story, and learn that you shouldn't judge someone unless you know where they're coming from. This takes place after the season 7 finale. Rated T for obvious reasons.
1. Prologue

For days after her arrest, Izzy said nothing. She answered no questions, didn't respond to anything anyone told her, and didn't act out.

At least, in the interrogation room.

When she wasn't being prodded, she was herself. The effect wasn't quite the same without her disguise and costume, but she really couldn't help it. It was so much fun, creeping men out and turning them on at the same time.

_Old habits die hard._

She didn't expect to stay for long - Matthew Downs, the love of her life, was a former Marine, and he'd do anything for her. He'd rescue her. She just had to wait.

After a week had passed, however, she decided to throw the cops a bone, just for fun. So, the next time she was interrogated, before the idiot who was trying to get something out of her could say anything or even sit down, she braced her arms up on the table, laced her fingers together under her chin, and asked, "What part of 'I'm not going to talk to you' don't you idiots understand?" She widened her eyes for a moment in her signature creepy way.

The cop (or whatever) froze, his mouth hanging open slightly - her sudden words surprised him.

Izzy smiled nastily. "I'm not going to talk to you," she repeated. "Why don't you go get someone I _will_ talk to?"

The cop shook his head slightly, recovering, and asked, "Who will you talk to?"

Izzy's evil grin widened. "I want to talk to that bitch cop who arrested me," she said. "Do you know her name?"

The cop checked something in the file he was holding. "That would be…SSA David Rossi?" he asked.

Izzy rolled her eyes. "_No_," she said with mock patience, "I mean the _bitch_ cop. A woman? Straight blond hair, down to about…" She lightly traced her fingers from her neck, down across her chest, and lightly stroked the peak of her breast. "…here?" The cop's eyes widened slightly, and Izzy smiled wickedly. "Maybe longer," she amended.

The cop blinked a few times, then tore his eyes away from her and looked back in his file. After a minute, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure," he said; "I'll have to ask."

"I'll wait," Izzy said in her trademark seductive voice, widening her eyes momentarily again for a creepy effect.

The cop stared at her for a minute, looking more confused than anything - like he wasn't sure what to think of her. Then, he shook his head slightly again, as though to clear it, turned around, and left.

Izzy smiled evilly after him.

_So. Much. Fun._

~X~

When JJ learned that Izzy Rogers wanted to talk to her, her first instinct was to say no. Being requested to speak with by a criminal was _never_ a good thing, and she and Will agreed that they wanted nothing more to do with her.

After a little while, though, JJ started having second thoughts. Henry had been having trouble sleeping since her wedding, and he was acting strange in other ways - he seemed damaged, somehow. JJ knew he'd seen her fight with Izzy, and that he'd spent time with the woman beforehand - lord only knew what that psycho bitch could have done to him. Besides, Izzy was refusing to speak with anyone else - _someone_ had to get her to talk.

Finally, against Will's protests, JJ made her decision.

_I'm going to give her a piece of my mind…_

~X~

When JJ saw Izzy through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room, she paused. The woman sitting inside didn't look anything like the monster she'd fought to save her son. Without her wig, makeup, lipstick, and outfit, she just looked like a disheveled young woman in a prison uniform. Her hair was light brown, curly, and messy, and her face looked completely different.

_That was quite a disguise she had,_ JJ thought; _but this is still her._

She opened the door and walked in.

Izzy looked up, and her eyes immediately found the wedding ring JJ was wearing.

"You got married?" she asked mockingly without any sort of preemption, smiling her evil smile. "Didn't take long for you to get over your boy's father, did it?"

"I didn't get over him," JJ said without thinking, unprepared for the sudden question; "I married him."

Izzy chuckled. "You married a dead man?" she taunted.

"Will isn't dead," JJ replied; "he's at home with Henry right now."

Izzy blinked, then smiled again. "That's impossible," she said; "Matthew was going to strap the bomb to a _person_, and we both knew, when we parted, that it would be your boyfriend."

"It was," JJ said, sitting down across the table from Izzy; "a colleague of mine deactivated the bomb."

Izzy shook her head, still smiling. "Not possible," she practically sang.

JJ met Izzy's eyes coldly. "The first detonator was protected by a four-letter password, to be entered on a cell phone," she stated. "The password was your name - 'Izzy'. Deactivating it triggered a second detonator with a thirty second timer, and had three colored wires: red, blue, and yellow, as was always the case with you - the colors of the national flag of Chad, where you and Matthew met. The only color different from the American flag's colors was yellow, and cutting the yellow wire deactivated the bomb permanently."

As JJ spoke, Izzy's eyes slowly widened with shock. When JJ was done, Izzy was silent for a moment, too stunned to speak.

"…How did you know…?" she finally asked.

"We know the whole event was a retelling of your story," JJ said; "we know you two met in Chad, around the time you two detonated a bomb in a train station there in 2008. We know that before that, you worked as an assassin, then a bank robber, which was what all the robberies you did as the Queen of Diamonds represented."

"You say 'we'…?" Izzy questioned.

"Me and my team," JJ said. "We figured you out. We know the whole thing was your sick and twisted way of celebrating each other and your connection-"

"Connection?" Izzy exclaimed, looking uncharacteristically angry all of a sudden. "That's what you call it? A _connection_? No - _we love each other_!" She blinked, took a breath, then went on in her more typical manner, "Do you think I'm not capable of love? Please. I'm a _sadist_, not a psychopath…and I love him." Her eyes flared open for a moment in her trademark, creepy way.

JJ couldn't resist. "You love a dead man?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at her coolly.

Izzy blinked, shock crossing her face again. Then she narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked icily.

"Matthew Downs is dead," JJ told her. "My boss shot him in the head when he tried to murder another colleague of mine."

Izzy shook her head slowly, her eyes wide with something like horror. "No," she breathed. "No, it can't be. You're lying."

"It's true," JJ said; "he's been dead for over a week."

Izzy blinked, then smiled nastily again. "Oh, I see what this is," she said mockingly; "you're trying to hurt me because I spent some time with your little boy. Are you _jealous_?" she taunted, widening her eyes momentarily again.

_It may be that I'm doing this for Henry,_ JJ thought, _but it's true, too._ "Would you like me to get the coroner's report?" she asked. "I can do that."

Izzy smiled her evil smile. "Go ahead," she said. "I know you're lying. Matthew isn't dead. I know he isn't, because _I'm_ still alive, and he can't be dead without me being dead, too."

This seemed like an odd thing to say, but JJ didn't bother trying to decipher it. She stood up, walked to the door, and spoke with one of the agents behind the one-way mirror. "I need the coroner's report for Matthew Downs," she told him.

The agent nodded and walked away. JJ went back inside the interrogation room and sat down again.

"And now we wait," JJ said.

Izzy gave a small, somewhat-sexual sound that implied laughter. "Do you _really_ think you can break me like this?" she asked teasingly, smiling her nasty smile.

"We'll see," JJ replied.

"Hmm," Izzy said, tilting her head. "While we wait, can I ask you something? How did you and your 'team' find out all those things about me and Matthew?"

"That's what we do," JJ replied. "I'm part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We get inside killers' heads and learn their backgrounds so we can track them down and stop them."

"That must be hard," Izzy said with mock sympathy. "Getting in our heads…That sounds like a _very_ traumatic job."

_It can be,_ JJ thought but didn't say. "Can I ask _you_ something now?" she asked.

"Of course," Izzy said in a seductive voice (for some reason). "This interrogation _is_ supposed to be about _me_, after all."

"You called yourself a sadist earlier," JJ said, Izzy's creepy charm holding less than zero appeal for her; "why?"

Izzy smiled wickedly and shrugged. "Well, that's what I am, isn't it?" she replied. "I get off on killing people slowly and painfully…" Izzy's voice got husky as she neared the end of the sentence; JJ suppressed a shudder. "Isn't that _textbook_ sadism?" Izzy finished.

"I don't know about _textbook_," JJ said, "but that is sadism, yes. But sadists don't _think_ of themselves that way."

"Hmm," Izzy chuckled softly, still smiling nastily. "Most of them try to pretend it's not true, don't they?" She laughed softly again. "I know what I am. I _accept_ what I am. I've accepted it for a _long_ time." Her evil grin widened. "And I'm not ashamed at all."

JJ closed her eyes and put her hand over her face; clearly, there was no reasoning with this woman.

A knock on the door signified the agent's return. Izzy smiled, thinking she was right. JJ smiled back, knowing_ she_ was right. Then, JJ stood up, opened the door, took the file from the agent, and sat back down. She opened the file, looked up at Izzy, took out a photo, and slid it across the table.

"Your boyfriend is dead," she said coldly.

Izzy picked up the picture and looked at it. It was a simple head shot of Matthew Downs's dead body, lying on a metal morgue table. Unmistakeable.

"No," Izzy breathed, her eyes widening with horror. She shook her head manically. "No. No, no, no, no-"

"_Yes_," JJ told her firmly.

Izzy let out a whimper; tears welled in her eyes. "_No_!" she wailed. "No, it can't be! _NO_!"

Then she buried her face in her arms and started sobbing.

JJ didn't buy it. She rolled her eyes and waited a minute. When Izzy's sobs didn't subside, she snapped, "Oh, enough with the crocodile tears! You're not fooling anyone!"

Izzy lifted her head - the areas around her eyes really were wet. She sniffed. "_Crocodile tears_?" she exclaimed tearfully. "I _loved_ him! Our love was the only good thing I've ever had in my entire life, and now you've taken him from me!"

"_I_ didn't kill him," JJ pointed out.

"Your _people_ did!" Izzy spat, still crying. "Your _boss_!"

JJ shrugged, her glare ice-cold. She felt no compassion for the evil woman before her.

Izzy blinked her tears away, sniffed again, and within two seconds, only the aftereffects of her tears remained.

"You got over that crying fit pretty fast," JJ commented coolly.

Izzy glared at her, her cool and seductive air gone. "I've had a lot of practice," she snapped. She blinked once more, and a mask of cold fury came across her face. "You'll pay for this," she declared in a hiss.

"Is that a threat?" JJ asked.

Izzy's evil smile returned, colder and creepier than ever. "It's a _fact_," she said, a bit of the sexual undercurrent of her voice returning. She tilted her head, smiling very evilly, and added, "In fact, you're probably _already_ paying for it…aren't you, Jennifer?" she asked, her eyes flaring open for a moment again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," JJ stated.

Izzy's evil smile widened into a grin, and the look in her eyes was very scary. She propped her left arm up on the table and leaned her head against it, then started slowly tracing a circle on the table with her right index finger. JJ ignored the movement, not understanding its significance.

"I did spend a fair amount of time with your boy, you know," Izzy began.

That was all it took - JJ's gut clenched, and she got a very bad feeling.

"He was so young," Izzy sighed reminiscently, looking down at the table, her eyes lidded. "So pure and innocent…" She smiled and looked back up at JJ. "He trusted me, you know," she told her. "I even _tried_ to scare him, but…" She shrugged, looking down again. "He just…didn't…get it." She sighed again, almost forlornly. "I looked at him," she went on softly, "and all I could think was, 'Poor boy. It's going to be _so_ _hard_ when reality comes crashing down on him. It'll _break_ him. He's too old to be so innocent; the longer this goes on, the worse he'll be hurt when it happens.'"

"Too _old_?" JJ interrupted angrily.

Izzy looked up at her and smiled again. "Well, he's, what, four?" she asked.

"He's _three_," JJ snarled.

Izzy blinked. "Oh," she said. "Well then…" She smiled nastily again. "I guess I made a small error. Oh well." She chuckled wickedly. "I suppose it doesn't make _too_ much of a difference. Anyway, I could only think about how _damaged_ he would be when he learned through experience about how cruel the world is…" Izzy's evil smile widened into a grin. "…and after a second's thought, I realized that _I_ could…_do_ something about that," she finished sinisterly.

JJ's eyes widened, and her breath started coming harder.

Izzy kept smiling. "Tell me," she said in her mocking, seductive voice; "has your boy been having trouble sleeping lately? Has he been having nightmares - maybe waking up in the middle of the night, screaming for you? Does he not smile much anymore? Has he seemed shy and withdrawn, exceptionally afraid of strangers, not playing games or having fun nearly as much as he used to? And when he does play, is it almost half-heartedly?" Her eyes flared creepily again.

JJ's fists clenched, and she was breathing hard - all those things were things she had noticed about her son's behavior during the past few days. He had been fine at her wedding, but less than a day later...

Izzy laughed softly.

Only the fact that the interrogation was being recorded kept JJ from lunging across the table and wringing Izzy's neck. Instead, she stood up, slowly and furiously.

"What did you do to my son?" she demanded with barely-surpressed rage.

"Do?" Izzy repeated with mock innocence. "Why, I didn't 'do' _anything_ to that little boy." Her wicked smile returned. "I mean, he was still in diapers - and like I told your husband, I don't do those."

JJ was shaking with wrath.

"I didn't hurt him," Izzy told JJ, her wicked smile not fading but a trace of honesty entering her tone. "I didn't even _touch_ him." She tilted her head, as though considering her words, then amended, "Well, okay, technically I _did_ touch him, but not in any way you would consider _bad_. I'm a _sadist_, not a pedophile." Her eyes widened momentarily again.

"What…did you do…to my _son_?" JJ demanded again, needing to pause for breath twice before she could finish the sentence.

Izzy looked down and started tracing the circle again, clearly enjoying JJ's anger and helplessness. She took a whole minute before looking back up at JJ again and answering:

"I saved him."

"_What do you mean, you saved him_?" JJ exploded, slamming her fists down on the table, knowing she was giving Izzy what she wanted but not caring.

Izzy chuckled nastily. "Do you want to know my story, Jennifer?" she asked wickedly. "Do you want to get inside _my_ head?"

"_Don't change the subject_!" JJ roared.

"I'm not," Izzy said, still smiling, clearly in her element. "But that's what you came here for, right? That's what _all_ these stupid cops want when they interrogate me. But you see," she said, leaning forward slightly in a mocking gesture, "the thing is, Jennifer, I don't share my story with just _anyone_. I only tell it to people I _trust_…and in all my life, there have only ever been two such people." She gestured down at the picture of Matthew's dead body, her smile fading. "One of them is dead," she said.

"_TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO MY SON_!" JJ shouted at the top of her lungs, slamming her fists down on the table again, tears of frustrated rage welling in her eyes.

"Be _patient_," Izzy said, slowly and tauntingly, her evil smile returning. "You see, there's only one person left alive, in the whole world, that can tell you my story." She tilted her head, the gesture somehow sinister. "Children _like_ being told stories, don't they?" she asked with mock innocence, widening her eyes for a moment again.

JJ's eyes widened, too - with fear.

"Your little boy was just _so_ pure and innocent," Izzy taunted, her voice slightly husky. "How could I _not_ have trusted him? Trust was all he knew." She grinned, all her evil showing in the expression. "So, if you want to know my story…" She chuckled sinisterly. "…ask your son. I _guarantee_ he remembers it," she finished.

JJ was completely still, save for the heaving of her chest. Her eyes were wide with horror.

Izzy laughed. "In fact," she added nastily, "I wouldn't be surprised if _every_ _word_ of it is _permanently_ engraved in his mind."

"You…" JJ breathed, barely able to speak. "You…_bitch_…"

Izzy moaned softly - even JJ's _emotional_ suffering was enough to turn her on. She tilted her head from side to side, grinning like the evil lunatic she was.

Neither of them spoke for a minute.

"Well, go on," Izzy finally taunted; "ask him. _I_ won't tell you my story. If you want to know it, go home and ask your son to tell you." She flared her eyes again.

JJ took a breath, then slowly shook her head.

"But don't you want to know?" Izzy asked with mock indignation.

JJ swallowed and pulled herself together. "Go to hell!" she snarled, and she turned for the door.

"If such a place exists, Jennifer, then that's where _all_ humans go," Izzy said softly. "So I guess I'll see you there, if not sooner."

JJ spun back around, her hand on the door handle. Izzy was still smiling at her.

"What makes us so different, you and I?" Izzy asked in a soft, mocking voice.

"I don't kill people," JJ snapped.

Izzy's smile widened. "Yes you do," she said in a singsong voice.

"I don't _torture_ people!" JJ spat.

Izzy raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't call what you just did to me 'torture'?" she asked, gesturing at the picture again.

JJ rolled her eyes. "I don't kill _innocent_ people!" she said exasperatedly.

"Neither do I," Izzy said.

JJ blinked.

Izzy's smile widened. "Every human has evil in them," she said; "some try to fight it, but a lot of people don't. You can't tell me that _all_ of the people I've killed were in the minority of relatively good ones. I may have saved a lot of people from unnecessary pain. You see, I know I'm evil, but at least I try to use my evil to _fight_ evil…and _no_ _one_, save for the smallest child, is innocent."

JJ shook her head. "I only kill for _justice_!" she shouted.

"So do I," Izzy replied.

"I'm not _evil_!" JJ exclaimed.

"Yes you are," Izzy said with an evil smile; "_everyone_ is."

"I don't _enjoy_ killing people!" JJ tried, exasperated.

"Yes you do," Izzy said.

"No I don't!" JJ retorted.

"Yes, you _do_," Izzy said. "You _know_ you do." She smiled nastily again. "Come on," she said; "you _can't_ tell me it doesn't make you feel good when you kill a monster. You _can't_ tell me that you and your 'colleagues' don't _celebrate_ after one of you shoots what you perceive to be a 'bad guy'. You _can't_ tell me that _any_ of you lost _any_ sleep over Matthew's death!" She took an angry breath, then added, "Maybe you don't _get_ _off_ on it, like I do, but you _do_ enjoy it." She widened her eyes in her signature creepy way again.

"I only do it when it's the right thing to do!" JJ yelled.

"And who's to say what's right or wrong?" Izzy countered. "When 'ordinary' people kill someone, it's called 'murder', but when _cops_ kill someone, it's called 'justice'. And what about in war? A group of soldiers goes out and kills people belonging to another group of soldiers, who are almost always simply under orders, and society _praises_ them?" She shook her head with something like disgust. "You don't know what's right or wrong," she spat. "You don't know _anything_. You think _murder_ is the most terrible crime? Ha! Murder is one thing - once someone's dead, it's over, they're done, they're not in pain anymore! _Torture_, on the other hand - forcing someone to _live_ with unbearable pain - _that's_ the greater crime, because it doesn't end."

"You torture _your_ victims," JJ pointed out.

Izzy glared at her. "I may make them _suffer_, because that's what every human deserves..._and_ because I enjoy their suffering," she added nastily; "but you see, I'm also kind enough to give them the release of death before _too_ long."

"Every human deserves to suffer?" JJ repeated, raising her eyebrows. "What do you think _you_ are?"

"I'm a human who paid for my evil in advance," Izzy replied. "And again I say: If you want to know what I'm talking about, ask your son."

"I will _not_ let you use my son as leverage," JJ spat.

Izzy shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said mockingly. "But from what I can tell, the only difference between us is that _I_ _accept_ that I'm evil, while _you_ try to pretend that you're _not_." She smiled her evil smile again, back to her normal self. "You see, Jennifer?" she taunted. "You're not the only one who can hurt people with the truth." She flared her eyes for a moment again.

JJ shook her head. "I'm _nothing_ like you," she snapped, and she turned back around, furiously opened the door, and left…not quite in time to not hear Izzy's taunting response:

"Keep telling yourself that…"

~X~

All six other members of the BAU team watched the recording of the interview back at Quantico. When it was done, there was silence for a moment.

Agent Hotchner turned to JJ and opened his mouth.

"No," JJ said firmly before he could speak.

"I haven't asked you anything yet," Hotch said.

"You're not using my son," JJ stated. "Whatever she told him traumatized him - I'm not going to let _anyone_ make him relive it!"

"JJ, we may need the information he has," Rossi said gently. "A strong case could be made for a plea of 'innocent by reason of insanity' with this video - the court may need her story to prove that that's not the case."

"I don't care what you say, I will _not_ let my son become her pawn!" JJ snarled.

"JJ, I understand your wanting to protect him," Hotch said, "but-"

"But nothing!" JJ spat. "We're _done_ with this case! Let the jurors crucify her - in _all_ her trials! She's not our problem anymore!" And she stormed out without giving Hotch a chance to reply.

There was a stunned silence for minute - the outburst was unlike JJ.

"Um, Hotch?" Garcia finally asked in her nervous way.

"Yes, Garcia?" Hotch asked, turning to her.

"Um, this case _is_ over, right?" Garcia asked. "Like, she's not getting out, right? She _is_ done…right?"

Hotch sighed and looked away.

"I hope so," he muttered.

~X~

Time passed, with no alerts involving Izzy Rogers cropping up. Days became weeks, weeks became months…nothing.

Emily Prentiss left the Behavioral Analysis Unit to take the job her former boss had offered her: the new head of the London Interpol team. Other than that, life went on at the BAU. Serial killers cropped up, the BAU hunted them down. Business as usual.

At first, Hotch tried to keep an eye on the proceedings with Izzy when they started, but she was strangely quiet. She didn't even _try_ to make a case in her own defense. No defense attorney, no presentation, no attempt at an "innocent by reason of insanity" plea…_nothing_. Hotch decided she must have given up when she learned of Matthew Downs's death, and put the whole matter behind him.

Try as she might, though, JJ couldn't get through to her son, no matter what she and Will did - she refused to ask Henry about Izzy's story, though it clearly haunted him more and more with each passing day. _"…I wouldn't be surprised if _every word_ of it is _permanently_ engraved in his mind."_ Izzy's words haunted JJ day and night. As a mother, though, she couldn't give up on him.

Then, about five months after Izzy's arrest, Hotch was working at his desk late one night when he got the call he had only just begun to stop dreading:

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, we have a situation: Izzy Rogers has escaped."


	2. Not Izzy's MO

The last of the sun's rays were just poking out over the horizon as Izzy rode in a transport vehicle to the airport, so she could be sent to court for her crimes overseas.

She had said virtually nothing since her talk with JJ, even in court. She had been silent, obedient, expressionless, and withdrawn, and had been given some reprieves for good behavior as a result. She only ever spoke to ask for more food, though, and the only times she showed signs of life were when she ate; apart from that, she was almost as lifeless as a doll. After five months of this, no one thought she was dangerous anymore. No one thought that she might be a flight risk.

And of course, no one thought to wonder if maybe it was an act to that exact end.

Now, for the first time since JJ had walked away from her, Izzy smiled. The transport vehicle she was in had minimum security; she wasn't considered a flight risk, so security for other prisoners in transit had been given priority. Her wrists and ankles were chained together, yes, as per protocol, but there were no other vehicle escorts, there were only two men in the vehicle (one in the back with her, one in the driver's seat), and the low wall between the back area and the front seats didn't even have a mesh cage covering the open part.

_Too easy._

The transport vehicle slowed to go around a bend…in just the right place.

Izzy made her move.

She knew she had to be sleek and silent, not erratic and flashy, if she wanted to actually get away, so she didn't do anything like try to steal her guard's gun. She waited until he was facing away from her, then struck quickly, jamming her thumb on a pressure point at the base of his neck - a little trick she had learned a while back, not that she had ever thought she would use it. She caught him before he could fall and leaned him, slowly and gently, against the wall. Not a sound was made, and the driver had no idea what was happening - or, for that matter, that anything _was_ happening.

Izzy grinned and searched the guard as quickly as she could without making too much noise with her chains. In seconds, she found the key to her shackles.

_Finally, some luck,_ she thought.

She unlocked herself as quickly and silently as she could. By then, the driver was already starting to speed up again, and she knew she was out of time. She didn't bother cushioning the sound of her chains hitting the floor; she dropped them and the key and leapt at the driver, reaching through the open space - _Honestly,_ she thought, _how stupid is _that_?_ - and jamming her thumb on the same pressure point on the driver's neck.

He went limp, and she summersaulted through the opening into the passenger's seat and grabbed the wheel by one hand. They hadn't been going too fast, so she gently pulled the vehicle over. It was too dark by then for her to figure out how the rest of the mechanics worked, so instead of searching for emergency brakes, she simply reached over and turned off the ignition. After the vehicle had gently rolled to a stop, she looked around through the windows. When she saw no one around, she opened the passenger side door, got out, glanced around one more time, then ran as fast as she could down a dark alley.

_Freedom._

All this happened in the space of two minutes. Not a sound was heard by anyone, nor was anything unusual seen by anybody.

~X~

The sky was already brightening with pre-dawn light by the time the BAU team arrived on the scene. The investigator in charge of the scene quickly approached them.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"How the heck did she escape?" Rossi demanded of him as he let the team under the crime scene tape and they walked across the area.

"We're not entirely sure," the investigator replied with a sigh.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" asked Morgan.

The man stopped and faced them. "We don't know what happened," he said; "I think it's safe to say that she had no outside help, but neither her guard nor the driver can remember anything."

"Are they _alive_?" asked Reid, surprised.

"Yes, and unharmed," the man said, turning back around and leading them forward again. "No fatalities, no injuries - no damage to any property, even. She just vanished without a trace."

The five BAU agents stopped and glanced at each other, all thinking the same thing.

"That's not her M.O.," Hotch said.

"She gets off on the kill," Rossi said, nodding.

"Not just the kill," Hotch said; "the pain and suffering of her victims."

"So why would she leave everyone unharmed?" Reid asked.

"Maybe she didn't have time," Morgan said. "Maybe she thought that quick and clean was the only way she could escape."

"She wasn't wrong, either," the lead investigator said, having walked back over to them. "No one noticed anything suspicious - it was a fair amount of time before we even _heard_ about this."

"How long?" asked Rossi.

The man shrugged. "Fifteen minutes, give or take," he answered.

There was a grim silence for a moment - even on foot, that was a significant head start.

"Where was she going?" Hotch finally asked.

"Her trial here in the states ended about a week ago," the investigator replied as they resumed walking; "the jury declared her guilty all the way. We were taking her to be sent overseas for the trials for her crimes there."

The transport vehicle came into view - neatly parked on the side of the road, with no apparent damage. A short distance away, two uniformed men - conscious and apparently unharmed - were being looked at by some medics.

"Are those the two officers who were with her?" asked Morgan, gesturing to them.

"Yes," the head investigator replied. "As far as we can tell, there's nothing wrong with them."

"Agent Morgan and I will talk to them," Hotch said, and Morgan nodded. "Rossi, Reid, JJ - you three look at the scene, see what you can find." He turned to the lead investigator. "Did you set up roadblocks?" he asked.

"We locked down the area as soon as we could," the man replied; "there's no telling how far she might have gotten beforehand, though."

Hotch nodded, knowing it couldn't be helped. "Thank you," he said; "we'll take it from here."

The team split up.

~X~

"Did either of you see _anything_?" Morgan asked the two men.

"No," replied the guard who had been in the back with Izzy, his eyes still slightly wide with bewilderment. "We were just driving along, we started going around that corner there…" He pointed to the corner at the end of the block. "…and then…I don't know, I just…blacked out or something, and when I opened my eyes again, she was nowhere to be found."

"I remember driving all the way around the corner," said the driver. "I…_think_ I might have heard something in back, but before I could wonder about it, I blacked out, too. When I woke up, we were parked on the side of the road, and the engine had been turned off."

"Do you have any idea how she might have gotten access to the front?" Hotch asked.

"Well…there was nothing stopping her, really," admitted the driver. "I mean, apart from her being in chains."

"She got the key from me while I was blacked out," said the other guard; "her chains were on the floor with it when I woke up."

"What do you mean, there was nothing stopping her?" asked Morgan.

"Well…uh…" the driver said, somewhat sheepish. "This transport vehicle is…uh…not exactly fit for use. The mesh cage that separates the back and the front came off a little while back, and we hadn't gotten around to replacing it."

"So why were you even _using_ it?" demanded Morgan.

"There were no others available," the driver replied, still sheepish.

"We didn't think she would be any trouble," added the other guard. "She _hasn't_ been any trouble, for almost five months. Apparently, she was…like an automaton, not responding to hardly anything - we were told she wouldn't be a flight risk."

Morgan closed his eyes, and Hotch sighed.

"Thank you for your time," Hotch said, and he and Morgan walked away.

"Not a flight risk?" Morgan asked Hotch. "Izzy Rogers?"

"Well, we _do_ know she's a good actress," Hotch said in his typical, almost-toneless way.

"Yeah, but I didn't think she was _that_ good," Morgan muttered, shaking his head.

Hotch nodded silently, not yet willing to admit that he, too, had been fooled.

~X~

"I don't think you're going to find much," the man in charge said to Rossi, Reid, and JJ as they approached the parked vehicle; "she didn't leave a trace - I mean, apart from her chains."

"Well, there's no harm in taking a look," Rossi said.

"Suit yourself," the man replied; "let me know if you have any questions."

"Thank you," said JJ, speaking up for the first time since she had heard of Izzy's escape.

The man nodded and walked away a short distance to talk to one of the other officers at the scene.

Rossi turned to JJ. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," JJ said flatly. "Let's just focus on finding her."

Rossi nodded, deciding not to argue. The three of them opened the back doors. As soon as they looked inside, they all noticed something.

"Hey!" JJ called to the man in charge of the scene.

The investigator came over. "Yes?" he asked.

"Why is there no barrier between the front and the back?" demanded JJ. "There was nothing stopping her from getting to the driver."

"All the other transport vehicles were in use," replied the man gravely. "I know, it was a serious oversight, but Izzy Rogers wasn't considered a flight risk, so no one thought it would be a problem."

"Not a flight risk?" JJ exclaimed angrily.

"According to everyone who kept an eye on her, she hadn't hardly spoken in almost five months," the man explained. "She didn't cause any trouble, didn't even make faces at anyone, obeyed every direction she was given without a word…She'd been given several reprieves for good behavior, but the only time she ever took advantage of them was to ask for more food. In fact, that was really the only time she ever _spoke_, and she only ever showed signs of life when she ate."

"And no one thought she might have been faking?" JJ asked icily.

"A lot of people did at first, yes, but this went on for five _months_," the man replied; "even in court, she hardly said anything. She didn't talk to any lawyers, didn't make any case in her own defense…she barely even gave the judge a plea."

"What was her plea?" Rossi asked before JJ could snap again.

"Well, that's just the thing," the man replied; "she pleaded 'guilty', and didn't say another word."

Reid's brow furrowed, but before he could say anything, JJ commented icily, "She was probably proud of all the stuff she did."

"Thank you for your help," Rossi said to the man in dismissal. When the investigator walked away, Rossi turned to JJ. "Are you sure you're going to be able to work this case?" he asked her.

"How can I not?" asked JJ. "I have to do _something_."

Rossi sighed. "Still no luck with Henry?" he asked gravely.

JJ shook her head. "He only gets worse," she said.

Rossi nodded. "Well, you're going to have to keep a level head if you want to be able to work this case," he told her gently. "Can you do that?"

"Of course," JJ said indignantly.

"Okay," Rossi said.

Reid, meanwhile, had climbed inside and was looking at the shackles and key on the floor.

"The key to Izzy's chains were with the guard who was here in back with her," he called to his comrades, virtually unaware of their conversation. "Once she was free of them, it would have been no trouble for her to climb through to the front." He hopped back out. "All she would have had to do was stun the two guards for a little while, and she would have had no trouble getting away."

"So it was _too_ easy for her," JJ muttered angrily.

"Any idea how she stunned them?" Rossi asked.

"She's been all over the world, and Matthew Downs was a former Marine," Reid said; "there are lots of ways to disable someone, even knock them unconscious, without making a sound - it's extremely likely that she learned at least one of them in her travels."

"So she had the means to escape all along," Rossi said. He looked around. "Why _here_, though?" he wondered out loud.

"If the driver had just come around the corner, he probably wouldn't have been going very fast," Reid said; "she probably took the opportunity to get away without running the risk of crashing or hurting herself."

"I highly doubt that that was the first turn they made," Rossi pointed out. He shook his head. "No…She plans everything ahead of time; this wasn't a random choice of location."

"How _could_ she have planned it, though?" asked Reid. "She had no way of knowing what route the shuttle was going to take."

"Maybe not, but there must be something close by that she was aiming for," Rossi said.

"We _did_ assume that she and Matthew Downs had a safehouse somewhere in the city to go after the bank robbery - they just ended up to JJ's house _instead_," Reid mused out loud; "their original destination might have been near here."

"Which means she probably has immediate access to new clothes, guns, disguises…" Rossi shook his head. "She could be _anyone_."


	3. Cursed

Izzy ran through the night as silently as she could. Those guards would wake up before too long; she had to get to safety before they could call for help.

Pity she hadn't been able to kill them.

_There was no time,_ she reminded herself. _Killing them would have taken precious extra seconds, and even the cleanest kill would have made noise. It was too risky._

Still…

She pushed the matter from her mind and ran on. Several times, she worried she had gotten lost; the city looked different at night. She tried not to second-guess herself, though, and finally, she made it.

The door wasn't locked - they had made sure of that. She and Matthew had known that what they were planing was extremely risky; they had set up a safehouse for themselves in the city, stocked to last them a little while. Of course, they hadn't planned on using it five months later…

Inside at last, Izzy turned on the dim light, found the key, locked herself inside, and finally, she was able to rest. She pressed her back against the door, breathing heavily, and slowly sank to the floor.

Once she had caught her breath, she opened her eyes and looked around.

The place was bare and simple - little more than a wooden box with some furnishings. There were two dressers - one low, one tall; a makeup station in the far right corner, with a mirror so she could make sure she didn't recognize herself; a plain, simple bed on the far side of the room; a dim, bare lightbulb on the ceiling; and two windows, one to her right, one on the far wall, that looked out on the city. Four mannequin heads stood on top of the low dresser; three bore wigs of different colors - one light brown, one blond, and one red; all of the wigs were straight, and they were of varying lengths. The bare mannequin head would have held her black wig, but the cops had confiscated that.

That was okay. Wigs could be replaced.

Matthew, on the other hand…

_No,_ she told herself, hardening her heart; _don't think about that right now._

She stood up and immediately stripped down, taking off all the clothing that marked her as a jailbird. She found a blade in one of the dresser drawers and used it to take off her ID bracelet. She stowed the prison things under some clothes, not wanting to have to look at them again.

_I will not be a captive._

She got dressed again, with real clothes. The undergarments she donned were hers, but the outer clothes that she had stowed there for herself didn't fit her anymore; she had to take some of Matthew's clothes. She put on a pair of his blue jeans and a gray t-shirt of his.

The clothes still smelled like him.

She grabbed her light brown wig, did up her hair, put the wig on, and looked at herself in the mirror. It never ceased to amaze her how such a simple thing as changing her hair made her look so completely different…

Still, the skin she saw on her face in the mirror was her own - uncovered, undisguised, and completely bare.

She didn't like that. It had been so long, but the fear had never left her…

She shook her head and turned out the light; she would put on makeup after she had gotten some sleep. The lights from the city outside streamed in through the windows, but it was low enough that she would be able to sleep. She crawled into bed, still dressed, buried her face in the pillow, and finally allowed herself to acknowledge the fact that she was, and would always be, alone.

Matthew was gone.

She let the protective barrier of ice she always kept around her heart come down - there was no one there to see her weakness, and maintaining her icy cruelty, even for her own sake, was just too difficult to keep doing. She was too tired…too sad…too hurt…

She cried.

Why did her life have to be like this? Was she just cursed? Four years of happiness in a terrible, miserable life…it only made the pain worse, now that she knew what she would never have again…

She couldn't go back. Back to being a killer and a thief, all on her own? What would be the point? What was the point in her life at all? _Was_ there a point in her life at all?

Memories of her life drifted through her mind: How she had been barely more than an infant, not quite even two years old, when her innocence had been brutally, agonizingly ripped from her…How she had been so afraid, and in so much pain, but no one noticed or cared…How she should have died from her wounds - how she had _wanted_ to die from them - but that monster hadn't let her…How she had grown up abused, every day, for years and years, trapped and enslaved and tortured…How she had started learning to turn her pain and fear into anger and hatred, not long after her tenth birthday…How the evil in her soul had called to her, offering her a way out…How she had answered the call, embraced it, willingly become a monster herself so that she could be strong…How she had fought her way free when she was fifteen, the feeling of brutally killing to be forever associated with the feeling of her first moment of freedom…How she had seen that monster everywhere, even afterwards, never able to trust anyone…How she had found pleasure and relief in ending human lives…How she had learned to make a living exacting her revenge on the world…

How, one fateful day in Chad, she had met _him_.

Matthew Downs. The love of her life.

The moment their eyes had met, they had both known that they were alike. They hadn't hesitated, hadn't feared each other - they had walked up to each other, somehow just _knowing_. They had bonded instantly over their hatred, their disgust, their _loathing_ of society…of _all_ of so-called 'humanity'…

Izzy remembered how they had both felt relief, finally being able to share the hatred that had built up inside both of them…How they had wreaked havoc on the world _together_, rejoicing in being able to share the experience with a like-minded person…

She remembered how he had responded with respect and acceptance when he'd discovered she was a sadist…How he had never questioned her sanity, or her ability to feel…How she had realized one day that she _trusted_ him, believed he wouldn't hurt her…How she had confided in him, let her wall of cruelty down and shown him who she really was…How kind he had been when he'd convinced her to tell him her story…How he had held her as she spoke, letting all her pain out for the first time in her life…He hadn't understood - no one could _possibly_ understand - but he had shown her such sympathy, such compassion…

She remembered how he had tasted that night, when they had first kissed…How he had never pushed her or tried to control her, always mindful of her past…

She remembered the tenderness he had shown her when he'd convinced her to let him see her scars…How he had been so gentle with her, brought her pleasure instead of pain…How he'd found his way into her heart - a heart that she had sworn she would never open to being hurt…

She remembered the first time they had told each other they loved each other…How she had felt when she realized that she meant it when she said it, and believed him when _he_ did…How she had thought that maybe, just maybe, all her pain had been worth it, so she could share her life with him…

She remembered that fateful day when they had decided to work together on the project so that he could have _his_ revenge, just as she had had hers…How they had planned and schemed, and worked so hard to create a perfect scenario…How excited they had both been, to carry it all out…

She remembered how they had decided to find a puppet or two to help them fund their plan…How she had found Chris and Ollie, seduced them into helping, made them think it was _their_ idea…How Matthew had never doubted that her heart belonged only to him, and had even encouraged her to use everything she could think of to control the two brothers…

She remembered the last kiss she and Matthew had shared, right before they had parted, thinking he was going to carry out the final stage of their plan, not knowing he was going to his death…She remembered the last words they had ever said to each other:

_"See you later?"_

_"You bet."_

…They hadn't even thought to say "I love you"…

Matthew Downs…The only person in her life who had ever cared for her, and for whom she had ever cared…The only thing, in her entire, miserable life, that had ever made her happy…

And now he was gone.

Izzy had thought that there was nothing left in her to break, that every tiny bit of her had been destroyed so completely that she was immune to any more pain; but at that moment, when she allowed the full realization of her lover's death to come crashing down on her, some part of her - some small piece that had been knit back together by the love she and Matthew had shared - shattered, and she knew total despair.

She sobbed and sobbed, convulsing with misery. _Why me?_ she thought. _Why did _I_ have to be the one to survive? Why does my life have to be nothing but pain? Why is it that when _I_ was hurt, no one came to save me, but when I tried to be the one who was _doing_ the hurting, I got taken down? What fairness is there in this world? What point is there to life? Why can't my pain just _end_…?_

She didn't know how long she wept; it could have been a minute, it could have been a day. In reality, it was about an hour, but time seemed to have no hold on her. When at last she had cried herself hollow, the possibilities for her future fell neatly into three options in her mind:

One, she could kill herself. She could end all her pain, right then and there. The idea was appealing, but Matthew wouldn't have wanted her to give up…

Two, she could try to avenge Matthew's death. She would still die - there was no doubt about that - but at least she would go down fighting, and maybe take a few other monsters with her…

Or three, she could lie low…and try to save the small piece of Matthew she had left. That would be the hardest choice by far - not only would it mean continuing to live, it would also mean no more killing.

_No more killing…No more brutally ending human lives…_

The very thought made her feel sick.

The question was, would it be worth it?

As she drifted off to sleep at last, Izzy made her decision.

Yes. It would be worth it.


	4. Out of Options

"So she's close," Hotch said when the two groups had shared what they had discovered.

"Yes, but she could look like anybody," Rossi said.

"Still, that gives us something to work with," Hotch said. He turned to JJ. "Call the media," he told her; "we need to let the public know that she's nearby, and probably in disguise. This city needs to go on high alert."

"Yes, sir," JJ said. "Should we set up a hotline?"

"It probably won't be much use, but yes, on the off chance someone saw something," Hotch replied. "Get her undisguised face and the face she wore as the Queen of Diamonds out, too - it's a long shot, but maybe we'll get lucky."

"Got it," JJ said, and she walked away.

"We need to talk to everyone who's been in contact with her during the past five months," Hotch said; "I know everyone says she's been silent, but maybe someone has some information that can help us figure out where she's going to strike."

"It's surprising she hasn't already," said Reid; "before her arrest, her cool-down period was thirty days, and that was when she was constantly planning her next attack - now that she has no real goal, she should have started killing again as soon as she got free."

"Not to mention that with Matthew Downs gone, she has nothing to lose," Morgan added; "there's nothing stopping her from going on a killing spree."

"Which is why the city needs to be on high alert," Hotch said.

Reid thought. "You know, the fact that she hasn't already started an attack on the city in general may mean she's planning revenge for Matthew Downs's death," he said; "that would take some time, and we know that when she does have a goal, her M.O. is to plan everything in advance."

"So she's going to come after _us_," Rossi said.

"She's going to come after _me_," Hotch said.

"She doesn't know which one of us shot Downs," Rossi pointed out.

"If she wants to, she'll figure it out," Hotch said; "JJ told her that it was the head of the BAU, and it won't take much research for her to find out who that is,"

There was a grim silence for a minute.

Morgan sighed. "I hate to say this," he said, "but if we're going to find her before _she_ finds _us_, we may need Henry to tell us what he knows."

"Let's consider that a last resort," Hotch said.

No one argued.

"Let's go," Hotch said. "Reid and I will talk to the prison warden, and check her cell, see if she left behind any clues; Morgan, Rossi, you two work with Garcia to see what you might be able to find."

Everyone nodded, and they split up.

~X~

It was late morning when Izzy woke up. For a few, blissful seconds, she couldn't remember her cursed fate.

Then it came crashing down on her again.

She shuddered, but she fought the tears down. _Crying won't bring him back,_ she told herself. _Crying doesn't solve anything - if it did, all my problems would have ended decades ago. Besides, monsters don't cry. I am a monster. I am evil. I will not be weak._

She channeled her pain into anger, as she had taught herself to do long ago. Her ever-burning hatred for all of humankind rose in her heart, and she embraced it. In less than a minute, she was her normal, cold, cruel self.

She got up and immediately went to work putting on makeup, expertly highlighting different aspects of her face to make herself totally unrecognizable. She knew how to work _with_ different wigs to make her disguise convincing - in this case, the straight, light brown hair that fell a few inches past her shoulders meant no eyeliner or mascara, highlighted cheekbones, and for good measure, lightly tanned skin. In minutes, the woman in the mirror was a complete stranger to her.

_Perfect._

She put on some shoes, grabbed a purse, and filled it with some of the cash she and Matthew had saved for their escape. In her mind, she went over what she needed. _Clothes that fit, a wig to replace the one I lost, food, a gun…_

_No,_ she reminded herself; _no gun. No killing. I need to lie low._

_…Ugh._

They hadn't stored guns in the safehouse, figuring they would already have their own when they got there, so she was completely unarmed. She took a deep breath, unlocked her door, and went out to face the world - for the first time, in many years, _not_ planning to kill anyone.

No matter how very, _very_ much she wanted to.

~X~

"Izzy Rogers," the warden said, shaking his head, as he led Hotch and Reid to Izzy's former cell. "Still can't believe it."

"She was a sadistic serial killer who masterminded several bank robberies and several bombings, murdered multiple people, and committed several other crimes besides, all over the world, and you're really surprised that she escaped?" Hotch asked.

"I never could believe any of that stuff about her," the warden said, shaking his head again. "As far as _I_ could ever tell, the girl was like a doll. All she ever did was eat, sleep, and follow directions - hardly said a word to anyone." He chuckled to himself. "She had quite an appetite, though, let me tell you that," he added; "didn't think it was possible to get fat on prison food, but _she_ sure did."

"She did?" asked Reid, his interest piqued.

"Yep," said the warden; "had to re-size her prison uniform several times while she was in. When she was given reprieves for good behavior, more food was the only thing she ever asked for." He chuckled again. "She even ate herself sick a few times. Didn't say a word in complaint, though."

Reid's brow furrowed, but he said nothing, lost in thought.

"You say she was given reprieves for good behavior," Hotch noted.

The warden nodded. "Sure did. She was the quietest, least troublesome inmate I ever saw. She seemed kinda…depressed, you know? Submissive. Like she had nothing to live for. Couldn't help feeling sorry for her." He opened a cell to their left. "Here we are," he said.

Hotch stepped inside and started looking around; the place looked virtually unused.

Reid hesitated.

"Did she ever _complain_ about her uniform being too tight?" he asked the warden.

The warden shook his head. "Never said a word about it," he replied; "we only noticed when she started having to struggle to put it on. Even then, she didn't so much as bat an eye when we asked to re-size her. Never batted an eye at _anything_, really."

"Huh…" Reid said pensively, looking down and to the side, as he always did when he was thinking.

"Reid," said Hotch.

Reid looked up. "Yeah?"

"A little help?" Hotch asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh! Right," Reid said, and he stepped into the cell, too.

The two agents looked everywhere they could think of, but not even Reid saw anything.

~X~

When Reid and Hotch got back to HQ to report their findings, the others had nothing new to add.

"All we're getting is the same story, over and over," said Rossi; "she didn't speak out, didn't show any signs of rebellious intentions, and only ever spoke to ask for more food."

"The sympathy ploy," Hotch said; "the warden said she seemed so dejected that he couldn't help feeling sorry for her."

"There's got to be more to it than that, though," said Reid; "if she was trying to play the victim, she would have said something when her uniform stopped fitting or when she got sick - the fact that she didn't makes it almost seem like she was trying to hide it."

"But that makes no sense," Rossi said.

Just then, JJ walked in.

"No word from anyone about any shootings or suspicious activity in the area," she informed the team. "Even the hotline has been dead."

Everyone looked at her grimly.

"What?" she asked.

Hotch sighed. "We're getting nothing but dead ends, no matter where we look," he told JJ. "We're out of options."

It took JJ a minute to understand her boss's meaning. When it dawned on her, she shook her head.

"JJ, you know I wouldn't ask this of you unless-" Hotch began.

"_No_," JJ said firmly, cutting him off; "you are _not_ interrogating my son."

"JJ, we have nowhere else to look," Hotch said. "Your son is the only one who may have information we can use."

"It doesn't have to be an interrogation," Rossi added; "we can do it at your house, and you can be right there the whole time. I'll go with you - just me, no one else."

JJ looked at the others, desperate for support. She didn't get any.

She turned back to Hotch. "My son has been traumatized by whatever that woman told him," she told her boss, "and every day, he gets worse. If it was Jack who had the information, what would _you_ do?"

Hotch sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them again to meet hers. "I would do what I had to to save lives," he told JJ. "Every minute that passes is another minute Izzy Rogers could start going on a killing spree. There's no telling how many people will die if we don't find her soon. I'm sorry," he added gently, "but we're out of options."

JJ balked.

"I'd rather not have to order you to do this," Hotch said after a moment, "but I will if need be. Izzy Rogers needs to be stopped, preferably _before_ people start dying again."

JJ closed her eyes, knowing she had no choice and hating it.

"Okay," she finally said softly.

"Come on," Rossi said gently, and the two of them went to get the truth from a damaged, three-year-old boy.


	5. Helplessly Heartless

Izzy made it back home in the early noon. She had new clothes that fit her, but were more her style, and a new black wig, exactly like the one she had lost. She knew she couldn't _use_ the wig, but it comforted her slightly to have the complete set.

She put the wig on the vacant mannequin head, changed her clothes, sat down on the bed, and tried to control her breathing.

Staying out while she had eaten had been a _huge_ mistake.

It had made sense at the time - her hiding place had to be off the radar, so she couldn't bring any trash back with her; ergo, she had to eat out. But all those people…all around her, talking and laughing and enjoying themselves, trying to pretend that they weren't monsters, time bombs that could go off at any moment and hurt other people…and she hadn't been able to kill any of them.

She hated everyone. Every living, breathing person filled her with loathing and disgust. In prison, it hadn't been so bad - at least everyone _there_ had been caught, put away for their evil, even if they weren't suffering.

But out in the real world…

She laid down on her back. _I'm away from them now,_ she reminded herself; _I'm alone here, far away from_ any_ of them._

That didn't make her stop sweating.

_They all deserve to die,_ said her instinct. _They all deserve to suffer._

_Yes, they do,_ she thought, _but _I_ can't be the one to do that to them right now. I have to lie low…_

It was no use; she started shaking.

_Kill them,_ said the instinct she hadn't even tried to fight for as far back as she could remember. _Kill them, slowly and painfully…You_ know_ that's what they deserve…_

"I can't," she softly told herself out loud. "I want to, but I can't. It's too dangerous." She closed her eyes, trying to get herself under control.

Her efforts were in vain - a minute later, the pain started.

It originated in her scars. At first, they burned, like they had been scrubbed with sandpaper. Izzy braced herself, knowing what was coming.

The pain erupted, searing through her, as though her scars were being ripped open again. The white-hot agony spread quickly, throughout her whole body, until she felt like she was being burned alive, inside and out.

She had never tried to resist her urge to kill for this long before - the first time the pain had come, she had sated herself quickly. Now, she gritted her teeth, fought her urge to scream, and tried to lie still and wait it out, not that she knew for sure it would ever end.

The burning anguish consumed her. She trembled, sweating hard, barely able to breathe. Each second trickled agonizingly by.

_Kill,_ said the words of fire in her mind. _Kill them. Make them all suffer, just as you did._

"No," she whispered softly, helplessly. "I can't…I mustn't…"

_Don't show them any mercy. _No one_ deserves mercy. You know what you have to do._

_I'm not fighting it for _them_!_ she reminded herself. _I'm fighting it for _me_!_

_Remember what he did to you. Remember that no one would have saved you. Remember what people are, and give them what they deserve!_

The agony was mind-numbing, the words of her soul undeniable. She couldn't fight it. She didn't _want_ to fight it. Why should she?

She leapt out of bed. She had no choice. Someone had to pay.

Someone _always_ had to pay.

The pain abated slightly as she moved. She quickly touched up her makeup - some of it had smeared from the sweat - grabbed her purse, and hurried back outside.

_I need a gun._

~X~

The first gun shop Izzy came to was empty, save for the man behind the counter. The man was young - probably in his twenties.

Being surrounded by guns comforted Izzy, if only slightly. The pain was just barely tolerable as she half-walked, half-stumbled to the counter.

"I need a gun," she said to him breathlessly. "A Glock - with four ammo cartridges - please!"

The guy blinked. "Okay," he said slowly. "What type of Glock are you looking for?"

"Doesn't matter!" Izzy gasped, gripping the edge of the counter to try to stop her hands from shaking. "Please - I just need a gun! _Please_!"

"Are you okay?" the guy asked, looking at her with perplexed concern.

"I'm fine!" she lied. "I just need a gun! _Now_! _Please_!"

"_Okay_," the guy said, stepping back and holding out his hands in a 'calm down' gesture.

As he walked away, Izzy cursed her helplessness. Had she been herself, she would have gone for the seductive approach; but now, as the agony burned her alive, it was all she could do to keep breathing. She braced herself upright against the counter, focusing on each breath. In…out…In…out…

The man came back, carrying exactly what she needed. Izzy held out a badly-shaking hand.

"Are you _sure_ you're alright?" asked the guy, seeing this. "Maybe I should call-"

"_No_!" Izzy shrieked. "Please don't call anyone! Just give me that! Please, I _need_ it! _Please_!"

"Can I see your license and ID?" the man asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she whimpered; "no, I don't have either of those with me. Please, just give me the gun!"

"Look, lady, I'm sorry for whatever's going on with you, but I can't just give you this," the guy said. "Haven't you heard the news? A psycho killer lady - Izzy Rogers - just escaped custody; the entire city's on high alert!"

"I know!" Izzy cried. "My name's Jessica! Please, just give that to me!" She lunged across the counter as far as she could, reaching for the gun in his hands.

He took a step back. "I need to see your license and ID," he said firmly.

"_Please_!" Izzy begged, not fully able to suppress a sob as a fresh wave of agony ripped through her. "_Please, just give it to me_!" She frantically fumbled with her purse and started pulling out handfuls of cash. "I will pay you…as much as you want!" she gasped desperately. "I just…need…that…gun!"

The man's eyes widened as a mound of $100 bills started growing on the counter.

"Okay!" he finally exclaimed when it was clear Izzy wasn't going to stop until he gave in. "Fine! Here you go!"

Gratefully, Izzy took the gun and ammo cartridges. She dumped three of the cartridges in her purse and jammed the fourth one into the gun. The pain abated, but only slightly. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you gonna be okay?" asked the guy.

Izzy looked at him with cold, cruel eyes. "I will be now," she said softly, and before the guy could even blink, she shot him in the gut, same place as always.

He fell back. Izzy gasped with euphoria as a cool wave of relief washed through her, dousing the searing pain that had built up inside her. The shaking stopped, and she could breathe again.

She took a minute to just stand there, eyes closed, head tilted back slightly, as she caught her breath. Then, she opened her eyes, and walked calmly around the counter to see her victim.

He was lying on the floor, gasping for breath, just as she had been doing a minute ago.

She walked over to him.

"I'm sorry," she told him; "I just needed to breathe again."

"Are…you…?" he panted.

Izzy smiled. "Izzy Rogers," she said; "yes, that's me."

The man's eyes widened, and he looked at the gun in her hand.

"Oh, and yes, you just gave a gun to a serial killer," Izzy said mockingly, still smiling. "Well done, you." She widened her eyes momentarily in her signature creepy way.

The man's breaths were shaky, and he trembled. Izzy's breathing got heavier again, this time with pleasure. This was what she craved, what she thrived on, what she _lived for_: the pain, suffering, and fear of others.

She knelt down beside him. "I'm sorry," she said again, trying to keep a lid on her arousal for once; "I can't help what I am."

The man couldn't speak.

She smiled wickedly. "Are you scared?" she asked tauntingly.

He nodded, whimpering now.

"Hmm…" She tilted her head. "Does it hurt?" she asked him.

He nodded again.

"Okay," she said, standing up carefully, one hand on her stomach; "I'll end it now."

She raised her gun again and shot him between the eyes. He convulsed once, then was completely still.

Izzy sighed and put the gun in her purse. She looked down at the body again. His eyes were wide open.

She bent over carefully and closed his eyes for him. They stayed closed.

She straightened up and started to walk away. As she did, she noticed the pile of money she had left on the counter.

_Well, _he's_ not going to need it,_ she thought, and she put it all back in her purse. Then she reconsidered, and left a couple of the bills behind. I'm_ not really going to need it, either…_

She left. The pain was gone, but it had been replaced by a strange hollowness.

_I can't help what I am…_


	6. Izzy's Secrets

Because of the alert, it wasn't long before the BAU got to see the security footage of the shooting. JJ and Rossi were still out, but Hotch, Morgan, Reid, and Garcia all watched the tape closely.

"Shot in the gut, same as always," Morgan noted.

"Yeah, but then she shoots him in the head," said Reid. "He was probably still alive when she shot him the second time - it's like she was putting him out of his misery."

Hotch turned to Reid. "Can you tell what she says to him?" he asked.

Reid shook his head. "Not from this angle."

"So she shoots him in the gut, but then she shoots him in the head, closes his eyes, and leaves a couple hundred-dollar bills behind," Morgan mused; "almost seems like remorse."

"That's not her M.O.," Hotch said.

"So maybe this is some _other_ psycho chick?" Garcia asked.

"It's possible," Hotch said hesitantly.

Reid shook his head. "No, that's her," he said; "she's in disguise as always, but her height and the shape of her general facial features are the same."

"And if Reid says it, it's so," Morgan said dryly.

"So this _is_ Izzy," Hotch said. "If that's the case, why did she need to buy a gun?"

"And where did she get all that money, anyway?" asked Garcia.

"She probably had some money stocked up from all those bank robberies," Morgan said; "we know she spent most of it on explosives, but she and Downs probably planned ahead of time for a situation where they wouldn't be able to leave the city for a while. As for the gun, maybe they just didn't store any backups for themselves - they already had theirs when they went out."

"But why the remorse?" Reid wondered out loud. "She gets off on killing - it even looks like she does at first in this video! Why the sudden change?"

No one had an answer.

Reid thought for a minute.

"Garcia, play it again," he said suddenly. "Start with when she first walks in."

"You got it," Garcia said, quickly typing some code or other.

Reid watched the footage very closely.

"Reid?" Hotch asked. "What do you see?"

"Watch her body language," Reid said, not looking away from the screen. "She's not behaving the way she should - she seems almost desperate."

"Desperate for what?" asked Morgan.

"The gun, I guess," Reid said, still focusing on the screen.

"It could be an act," Hotch pointed out. "She couldn't give the cashier a license or an ID - maybe she was trying for a sympathy ploy."

"Garcia, zoom in on her hand when she first reaches for the gun," Reid instructed.

"Roger that," Garcia said, and she did so.

"Look there," Reid said, pointing; "see how her hand's shaking like that? That would be really hard to fake…"

"So what are you saying?" asked Morgan.

"Garcia, zoom out again, and skip ahead to when she fires the first shot," Reid told Garcia.

Garcia complied.

"Watch her body language from then on," Reid told the others.

"Cool and calm, as always," Morgan said, nodding.

"Reid, what are you thinking?" asked Hotch.

"I'm thinking her urge to kill may not be something she has control over," Reid said, finally turning back to the other two men.

"But if she let it get to the point where she was genuinely that desperate, that implies that she was _trying_ to control it," Morgan said. "If this is an impulse, we have no evidence to suggest that she's ever tried to control it before."

"So why now?" Hotch asked. "What reason could she have now for trying to_ not_ give in to it?"

"She shouldn't have one," Morgan said; "with Downs out of the picture, she's got nothing to lose."

Reid had resumed watching the footage, which was still playing.

"Garcia, stop it there!" he exclaimed suddenly.

The video paused at the point where Izzy readied her gun to fire the second shot.

"Now rewind to just before she starts to stand up, then play it again," Reid said.

Garcia complied.

"Morgan, Hotch, look at this," Reid said, pointing to the image. "It's easy to miss because the counter's in the way, but when she stands up, she has her hand on her stomach, like she's trying to hold it in or something." He turned back to them. "The warden said she got fat on prison food," he said, "but even with additional food for good behavior, they shouldn't have had to re-size her several times in only five months."

"Reid, what are you saying?" asked Hotch.

Morgan's eyes widened. "Hold on," he said, "you're not thinking she's…?"

"Oh dear god!" Garcia exclaimed as she caught on. "Please, please, _please_ tell me that crazy woman is not…!"

"I think she might be…pregnant," Reid said.

There was silence for a minute.

"It…_does_ add up," Morgan admitted at last.

"It explains _everything_," Reid said: "why she didn't say anything when she started to outgrow her prison clothes, why she constantly asked for more food, why she would try to resist her urge to kill now that she's out…it even explains why she didn't go with Downs to blow up the train station!"

"I thought she was holding Henry hostage," Morgan said.

"Either one of them could have done that," Reid said, "and _she_ was the one who got off on murder and chaos, not him!"

"And if Matthew Downs is the father, that means she may have escaped to try to preserve what she sees as all she has left of the man she loved," Hotch said. "She _does_ have something to lose."

"Am I the only one here who is completely freaked out by the thought of Izzy Rogers having a child?" Garcia asked in one breath, turning to her friends.

Morgan looked at her. "No, you're not," he replied, shaking his head.

"Garcia, get the best image of her current disguise as you can from this footage and get it out to the public," Hotch ordered. "Also, let the public know that she may be five months pregnant - she needs to be handled carefully."

"'Handled carefully'…I hope you mean for the sake of the people _around_ her," Garcia muttered as she went to work.

"I do," said Hotch; "a serial killer with nothing to lose is one thing, but a _pregnant_ serial killer with nothing to lose but her child is extremely volatile - there's no telling how she might respond if she feels cornered."

~X~

JJ parked in front of her neighbor's house, turned off the car, and sighed.

"Are you ready for this?" Rossi asked her softly from the passenger's seat.

"No," JJ replied, turning to Rossi.

"We'll be gentle," Rossi said, trying to reassure her. "Remember, you'll be there for him the whole time."

"I've been there for him for the past five months as much as I could manage," JJ said, "and he's done nothing but get worse. How will my being there now help him as he relives the story that traumatized him in the first place?"

"Maybe he'll feel better after he tells it," Rossi said gently. "In any case, we _need_ to do this, you know we do."

JJ sighed. "I know," she said softly, and she got out.

She approached her neighbor's house, Rossi right behind her. The neighbor was playing with her own kid in the yard; Henry was nowhere to be seen.

The neighbor looked up when she heard the fence open.

"Uh-oh," she teased, smiling and standing up as JJ and Rossi approached her. "One familiar face, one not - I don't like the look of this!"

Neither Rossi nor JJ smiled back.

"SSA David Rossi," Rossi introduced himself, pulling out his badge for good measure.

"Ooh, you have _proof_ that you are who you say you are," the neighbor said jokingly, still smiling. "That's good."

Again, neither of the agents returned the smile.

JJ's neighbor's smile slowly faded. "Okay…what's going on?" she asked, concerned by the gravity of Rossi and JJ's expressions.

"Didn't you hear the news?" asked Rossi.

The neighbor shook her head. "No," she replied; "we've been outside all day."

"Izzy Rogers escaped custody last night," JJ said softly.

The woman's face fell, and her eyes widened. "Oh," she said. "Oh…Oh god, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "I had no idea…!"

"It's okay," Rossi said.

The neighbor shook her head again. "I do still feel somewhat responsible for what happened last time," she said softly; "I mean, _I_ was the one who let that woman near Henry in the first place…"

"Don't blame yourself," Rossi said; "you had no way of knowing what was happening."

"I know, but…"

"Where _is_ Henry?" JJ asked the woman.

The neighbor met JJ's eyes sadly. "Inside," she replied. "You know how he's been, ever since…"

JJ nodded, not able to bring herself to speak.

"Are you going to tell him?" the woman asked the two agents. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Actually, we need _him_ to tell _us_ something," Rossi said.

"Don't expect him to talk to you," the woman told him; "he hardly ever talks anymore…"

"Look," said JJ, "I'm sorry, I wish I could explain, but we have no time to lose."

The woman nodded. "Okay," she said, and turned back to her daughter, who was tugging her hand.

JJ and Rossi went inside.

"Henry!" JJ called. "Henry, it's mommy!"

Five months ago, the sound of running little feet would have signified the eager approach of JJ's son. Now, there was silence.

Rossi looked at JJ. JJ didn't return the glance; she just walked through the house to where she knew Henry would be. Rossi followed.

"Henry," JJ said again, more softly now. "Henry, it's me. Please come out."

The dining room table came into view. There were crayons and pieces of paper at one end. JJ knew what would be on the papers: circles, traced over and over again.

Slowly, Henry shied around a corner and into view. He wasn't smiling.

"Henry," JJ said, quickly getting down on her knees and hugging her son tightly.

Henry hugged her back, but he said nothing. He still didn't smile.

JJ suppressed a sob. She squeezed him briefly, then pulled back and looked Henry in the eye. He still didn't respond.

Behind JJ, Rossi crouched down to be at eye level with the boy.

"Hi, Henry," he said gently. "Do you remember me? I'm David."

Henry's eyes widened fearfully, and he moved closer to his mother.

"Henry," JJ said, "it's okay. He's a friend. Don't you remember him from that party mommy and daddy had five months ago?"

Henry was still for a minute, then slowly nodded. He still stayed close to JJ, and he still didn't smile. He kept his eyes on Rossi, as though fearful that Rossi would make a sudden, threatening move.

JJ sighed remorsefully, then asked the question she had sworn she would never ask her son.

"Henry, sweetie," she said softly, "do you remember a woman named Izzy?"

Henry turned his head to his mother, wide-eyed. "The scary lady?" he asked, his voice croaking from lack of use.

Tears welled in JJ's eyes, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry - that was more life than Henry had shown in the last two months put together. "Yes, honey," she replied.

Henry nodded. "I remember," he said. "I'll always remember."

"Henry," Rossi said gently.

Henry quickly faced Rossi again, shying even closer to his mother.

"Did she ever…tell you a story?" Rossi asked him softly.

Henry said nothing.

"It's okay, sweetie," JJ said reassuringly. "Answer him."

"You can talk to your mother," Rossi added; "it's okay."

Henry turned to JJ. "She told me _her_ story," he said softly.

JJ smiled sadly and nodded, patting her son on the back of the head. "Do you remember it?" she asked him.

"I remember all of it," Henry replied.

"Okay," Rossi said gently. "Well, we're going to need you to tell us what you remember."

Henry turned to Rossi.

"We could really use your help," Rossi told him.

Henry looked at Rossi for a minute, his expression blank. Then, slowly, he turned to look at JJ.

"She got free, didn't she?" he asked his mother, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Rossi and JJ glanced at each other. Rossi nodded.

JJ turned back to Henry. "Yes, sweetie," she replied, "she did. And we need your help so we can catch her again."

"Who'd she kill to get free?" Henry asked.

JJ blinked. "No one, sweetie," she replied.

"Mommy," Henry said with a seriousness no child his age should have been able to manage, "don't lie to me. She killed someone to get free the first time, and she told me she likes to kill. Who'd she kill to get free this time?"

For a moment, JJ was too shocked to speak.

"No one," she finally repeated. "It surprised us, too, but she didn't kill anyone to get away. She _could_ kill someone any minute, though, so we need to stop her before that happens." Her lip trembled. "Will you help us?" she asked her son, wishing with all her might that she didn't have to.

Henry nodded.

"Okay, sweetie," JJ said, lifting her son up. "Come on."

She set him down on a couch, then sat down next to him. Rossi sat down in an armchair across from JJ and her son, took out a tape recorder, and set it on the low table between them.

"Now, Henry," Rossi said, "we're going to need you to speak up so this can hear you. Okay?"

Henry said nothing.

"Okay, sweetie?" JJ asked.

Henry looked at his mother and nodded. "Okay," he said.

"Alright," Rossi said, and he turned on the tape recorder. "Now, tell us everything you remember. Start at the beginning, if you can."

Henry took a breath, then started repeating all the things Izzy had told him, almost exactly as she had said them; all of it was made even more horrifying by being repeated by a three-year-old child.

Every word Henry said was a knife in JJ's heart.

~X~

"Thank you," Hotch said, and he hung up.

He turned to the others. "Just got a tip from the hotline," he told them; "a woman calling herself 'Jessica' bought clothes and a wig earlier today; the storekeeper says her face matched the image of Izzy from the gun shop. Paid in cash, no ID - just the name."

"'Jessica'…" Reid repeated thoughtfully.

"You say she bought a _wig_?" Morgan questioned.

Hotch nodded. "Based on the description, it's exactly like the one she wore when she was committing bank robberies as the Queen of Diamonds."

"But we have an image of her in that disguise out in the media," Morgan said.

"Maybe she doesn't know that," Hotch said. He paused, then added, "As for the clothes she bought…they were meant for women in their second and third trimesters - she bought all the sizes she would need if she were to carry the baby to term from five months in." He looked at Reid. "You were right," he said gravely; "she _is_ pregnant."

"Great," Morgan muttered.

~X~

Izzy sat on the bed in the safehouse, still and silent. Every now and then, she glanced down at her swollen belly.

Why did she have to be pregnant? Why couldn't she have a miscarriage, at least? Between everything that had happened the day Matthew had died and all the things she had been through in the past 24 hours, she should have lost the baby.

But it was still alive. She could feel it.

_It's like me,_ she thought; _even when it should, or would be better off if it did, it just won't die._

She had tried to lie low, for the sake of a child she had never wanted…and she had failed. She had killed again. She _would_ kill again, she knew. There was no fighting it. She would keep killing until she was caught…and then the police would take her baby - the only remnant she had left of the one, brief interlude of happiness she had ever had in her life. Then, she would truly have nothing.

She wasn't even sorry.

She had told the man she had killed that she was sorry. She had even _tried_ to be sorry - _god_, how she'd tried to be sorry! But she wasn't sorry. She was glad. She was happy that she had ended another human life. Well, not quite _happy_, but more content, at least…

Slowly, carefully, she laid down on the bed, buried her face in her pillow, and, unable to hold it in anymore, she cried.

Not for the man she had killed.

For herself.

_I _am_ cursed,_ she thought. _I don't have a choice anymore. I am, and will always be, a monster. And how can a monster be a mother? I'll probably do nothing but hurt this child. Not that the rest of the world wouldn't do that anyway, but…if _I_ do it, it'll be like I'm hurting _Matthew_._

_Matthew, my love…how can _I_ be alive, and _you_ be dead? _You_ were the one who should have survived, not me. I shouldn't be alive. I should have died long ago…_

Such were Izzy's thoughts as she wept through the rest of the afternoon and evening, until darkness fell.

~X~

"I swear, we better find her _together_," JJ said to Rossi through gritted teeth as they walked back into HQ. "If one of you guys isn't there to stop me, I'll kill her."

"You might be doing her a favor," Rossi said sadly.

JJ stopped and looked at Rossi. "Don't tell me you feel _sorry_ for her!" she exclaimed.

Rossi stopped, too, and faced her. "Don't tell me you _don't_!" he responded. "How could you not?"

"My son did not need to hear _any_ of that," JJ said angrily.

"Well, I can't argue with _that_," Rossi admitted as they resumed walking. "Still…"

"Rossi, JJ," Hotch said, walking over to them.

"Any news?" Rossi asked.

"Oh yeah," Hotch replied, and the three of them went to the meeting room where Morgan and Reid were waiting.

JJ and Rossi were silent as they heard what they had missed.

"_Pregnant_?" Rossi repeated when they had been brought up to speed. He sighed and shook his head. "Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse…"

Just then, Garcia walked in.

"Fingerprint analysis just came back on the money she left at the gun shop," she said. "It was definitely Izzy." She saw Rossi and JJ. "Oh, Rossi, JJ, you're back," she said.

"Did you get Izzy's story from Henry?" Hotch asked Rossi.

"Oh, we got her story, all right," Rossi replied. "Henry remembered every word of it, and I've got to say, I don't blame him. I doubt _I'll_ ever forget it, even if I grow old and contract Alzheimer's Disease."

"That bad, huh?" Hotch asked.

"Oh, trust me," Rossi said, "words cannot describe how bad."

"Well, let's hear it," Hotch said.

Rossi took out the tape, then hesitated and turned to Garcia. "Garcia, you…may not want to hear this," he told her.

"Oh, no, it's okay!" Garcia said quickly. "I can handle it."

Rossi sighed and shook his head again.

"Look, if I'm going to help you guys use whatever story she told Henry to catch her, I need to know the story," Garcia pointed out. "Besides, I've seen a lot of bad stuff in all these years I've been working here, and I've been able to take it."

"Well, if _this_ doesn't make you want to rethink your career choice, nothing will," Rossi muttered, and he set the tape recorder down in the middle of the table. He, JJ, and Garcia all sat down, Rossi sighed again, and he pressed 'Play'.


	7. Redacted

~This chapter has been censored here for the sake of rating this story "T" instead of "M". If you REALLY want to know the story Izzy told Henry (for the purposes of this fanfic, at least), look up "Storytime with Izzy" in the M-rated section of the Criminal Minds category. BE WARNED: I even sicken MYSELF whenever I re-read it. I outdid myself with the sickening and horrifying details in it, and I do not recommend it for anyone who doesn't have a high tolerance for the creepy, the explicit, and the overall just plain wrong. Also, please note that you do not - I repeat, you do NOT - have to read "Storytime with Izzy" to fully understand the rest of this story - the BAU will discuss it in relatively censored conversation, and you should be able to pick up on the important parts from them.


	8. Nothing Left

There was a grim, horrified silence in the room after the tape ended. For a minute, no one moved.

"Okay," Garcia finally said, "I think I can say with absolute certainty that that was the most horrific thing I have ever heard in my entire life." She glanced around at everyone briefly, then added, "And considering all the stuff I've seen while working with you guys, that's saying something!"

"I think we can all agree on that," Morgan said gravely. He shook his head. "God…" he muttered. "Less than two years old...Is that even _possible_?"

"Theoretically, yes," Reid answered, "depending on the relative sizes of-"

"_Reid_," Morgan said, cutting him off.

Reid stopped and looked at Morgan.

"A simple 'yes' or 'no' will do," Morgan told Reid, eyebrows raised.

Reid hesitated. "Actually, no it won't," he said. "You see, if it were an isolated incident, then hypothetically yes, it would be possible - again, depending on the circumstances - but even one time would have caused significant damage, with resulting blood loss ranging from moderate to fatal. Given that she claims that the abuse took place at least once within any given 24-hour period after it started, it _wouldn't_ be physically possible for her to have survived, not even to age three."

"So she was lying?" Garcia asked quickly. "She just made it up? Oh, dear god, _please_ tell me she just made it up…"

"Possibly," Reid began slowly.

"No," Garcia said firmly; "if it's not possible, it's not possible. She made it up."

"It's not possible that things happened as she _described_ them," Reid said slowly. "However, it _is_ possible that she was telling the truth as she _remembers_ it. Long-term memory isn't fully functional in a person until age four on average - even in the case of a significantly traumatic memory, it's extremely likely that her recollection of exactly when it took place would be skewed. She could have been three, four, possibly even five at the time and still remember it as having been before her second birthday. Of course, the damage would still have been severe."

"And her parents were too busy fighting each other to notice the blood…" Rossi said, shaking his head.

"Okay, but, just because it's _possible_ doesn't mean she wasn't making it up," Garcia said quickly, clearly grabbing at straws.

"Well, let's go over what we know about her, see if anything doesn't fit with her profile," Hotch said. "What do we know?"

"She always goes for the gutshot," Morgan started. "She says she stabbed her grandfather in the gut - that could contribute to her M.O., along with her being a sadist."

"She said that the feeling of brutally murdering her grandfather was associated with the feeling of her first moment of freedom, and that that thrill never left her," Rossi said; "but even a powerful association like that wouldn't cause _sadism_, would it?"

"Not on its own, but keep in mind that based on her story, sadism and possibly other pathologies probably ran in her family," Reid said. "Given that she had such a powerful stressor _along_ _with_ her genetic predisposition, it would have been virtually impossible for her to have _not_ turned out the way she did."

"She always wears makeup, even when she plans on wearing a mask," Morgan said.

"Her grandfather hid her bruises with makeup, and warned her never to let anyone know what he was doing to her," Hotch said. "If she was as afraid of him as she implies, that fear may be currently manifesting as an obsessive need to wear enough makeup to alter her appearance."

Reid's eyes lit up as he thought of something else. "We profiled her as willing to murder people of any age - and that's true, _if_ you count the bombings," he said; "but if you only count the individual shootings, she never killed anyone under the age of ten. That didn't seem significant before, but in her story, she said that she started to turn cold when she was ten - she may see that as the age when a person's evil starts to manifest."

"She said she believes everyone is evil," Rossi mused. "Given that her family - everyone she should have been able to rely on - either ignored or abused her, her hatred for people in general would be…almost _justified_. She might actually be eligible for a verdict of innocent by reason of insanity."

"She's not crazy," JJ said tonelessly, not looking at Rossi.

"No, but 'innocent by reason of insanity' just means that she doesn't understand the difference between right and wrong," said Reid. "She may _know_ what society says is right or wrong, but if she truly, genuinely doesn't understand it or agree with it, she qualifies…and given the circumstances under which she says she started killing, it's not unlikely that that would be the case."

"Okay, but what about her trying to be all sexy and seductive in her weird, super-creepy way?" Garcia asked. "If she was raped her entire childhood, she wouldn't be like that, would she?"

"Not when you put it _that_ way," Rossi said slowly. "On the other hand, it could be said that her grandfather controlled her using his body; her overtly sexual behavior may simply be her way of trying to do the same to others - not to be _like_ him, but to _spite_ him."

"Anything you can do, I can do better," Hotch said, nodding.

"Like she did with me," JJ said in a distant tone of voice; her eyes were still fixated on the tape recorder. "'You're not the only one who can hurt people with the truth,'" she repeated softly.

There was silence for another minute.

Hotch sighed. "I hate to say it…I _really_ hate to say it," he added, "but…it looks like her story adds up."

"But that still doesn't mean it's true!" Garcia said, clearly desperate.

"There's only one way to find out," Morgan said, meeting Garcia's eyes.

Garcia swallowed, understanding his meaning, then nodded. Everyone stood up to go…except JJ.

"JJ," Hotch said, noticing this.

JJ looked away from the tape recorder on the table for the first time since it had started playing and met Hotch's gaze.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I am _not_ okay! My son did not need to hear _any_ of this!"

"We know," Hotch sighed, unable to say anything more, "but there's nothing that can be done about it now."

"It's amazing he remembered it for this long," said Reid; "again, a person's long-term memory isn't fully functional until about age four. It's highly likely that he'll forget the story over time. The _fear_ might remain, but…"

"If _anything_ 'remains', it's too much!" JJ snapped.

"JJ, we're sorry," Hotch said gently. "We're _all_ sorry, that _anyone_ had to hear this…but right now, we need to focus on finding Izzy before she kills again."

JJ closed her eyes, then nodded and stood up wordlessly. Together, the six of them filed out of the room, Garcia in the lead.

~X~

_I have nothing left._

The grim conclusion came to Izzy a few hours after nightfall.

She sighed and got up. She took off her light brown wig and let it fall to the floor; she wouldn't be needing it anymore. She thought for a moment, then turned on the light and grabbed her short, black wig.

_Might as well,_ she thought.

She went to her makeup station, scrubbed off the makeup she had on, put on her black wig, and redid her makeup, adding eyeliner and mascara. In minutes, she was the Queen of Diamonds again - or, as she liked to think of that particular disguise, the _real_ Izzy Rogers. She put on her lipstick one last time, then walked over to her purse. She took out her gun - it was all she would need - and tucked into the back of her pants.

She went to the door, unlocked it, opened it…and hesitated.

She looked back at the place she and Matthew had designed together, to share with each other. They had worked so hard, and come so close…This had been a place where they had intended to be _together_ - the closest thing to a home they would have had in a long time.

_But he's not here,_ she thought; _he never was…_

She turned off the light and left, never to return.

_I'm coming to you, my love._

~X~

"Okay," said Garcia, quickly typing something; "looking up cold cases involving single murders of men over the age of fifty between 20 and 30 years ago."

"Don't use the name 'Rogers'," Hotch said; "it's more than likely that she changed her name after she escaped."

"_If_ her story is true," Garcia said firmly, still typing something that none of the others could make any sense of.

Hotch nodded but said nothing, not wanting to tempt fate.

"We don't know exactly where she's from, but she's probably American," Rossi said; "check the whole United States."

Garcia finished typing. "Done," she said. "_Way_ too many hits."

"Cross-reference with cold cases involving the disappearances of individual teenage girls," Hotch said; "she said no one ever found her, so it's likely that her disappearance is a separate cold case."

"Roger that," Garcia muttered, entering something in.

The results came up.

"Still a few dozen matches," she said.

"How many involving the victims being the legal guardian of the missing girl?" Morgan asked.

Garcia typed. "Most of them," she replied.

"That makes sense," Hotch said. "Try eliminating murders involving gunshot wounds."

Again, Garcia typed. "Sixteen matches," she said.

"Eliminate single fathers - look for grandfathers of the missing girls," Rossi said.

Garcia entered the information. "Seven matches," she said.

The team was stymied for a minute.

"She said her grandfather's name was Henry…" JJ said slowly.

"It's possible she invented that part to make the story more personal to _your_ Henry," Hotch said; "we can't rely on that piece of information."

"The storekeeper she bought clothes from said that she called herself 'Jessica'," Reid said. "Garcia, how many of the missing girls went by that name?"

Garcia checked, then turned to her team.

"One," she replied softly.

"Bring up the murder file," Hotch ordered.

Garcia turned back to the screen. "Okay," she said, and she clicked on the link.

"Henry Reynolds, 62 years old," she read, "lived in Belville, Ohio, unmarried, retired surgeon, father of Roger Reynolds, grandfather of Jessica Reynolds, murdered in his home, COD was exsanguination due to knife wounds, injuries were…" She blinked. "…_exactly_ as described, murder weapon was found near his body, no prints were left behind, no clues were ever discovered, case was never solved."

"What about Jessica Reynolds?" asked Reid.

Garcia clicked on the link.

"Jessica Reynolds, daughter of Isabelle Howard and Roger Reynolds, parents never married-"

"Hold on," Morgan interrupted. "Isabelle and Roger?"

"Izzy Rogers," Hotch said. "That can't be a coincidence."

"The only good thing her parents ever did for her," Morgan said: "give her a new name."

"As I was saying," Garcia said impatiently; "parents never married, legal custody of her was given to her grandfather Henry Reynolds at age five, average grades in school, no detentions, no teacher notes, no run-ins with the law, disappeared at age fifteen at the same time her grandfather was murdered." Her eyes widened. "Oh god," she breathed; "it's true." She turned to her team, horrified. "It's all true!" she exclaimed. "That…actually…_happened_! In _this_ world! Like, _ever_!"

There was a collective sigh of sorrow from the team; all of them had been hoping the story was a fabrication.

For a minute, no one said anything.

"So…how does this help us find her?" Morgan finally asked.

Hotch sighed again, this time regretfully.

"It doesn't," he admitted.

~X~

Father Daniel was relighting the candles in his church. It was late at night, but the church was a sanctuary that should never be closed, especially given the trying times…

He heard the enormous doors open. He turned to greet whoever had come in…and found himself face-to-face with the woman he had seen in the news. There had been three possible faces the authorities had offered, but this woman's face was definitely one of them. _Izzy Rogers._

She closed the doors as softly as she could behind her, acknowledging Father Daniel with a nod. He noted that she didn't look like she was there to kill anyone. No; she looked more like a lonely sinner who had come to try and find her way…

"Welcome," he greeted her warmly, holding out his hand as she walked up to him. "I'm Father Daniel."

She nodded again, but didn't shake the hand he had offered. "Could you please…go somewhere else…Father?" she asked him softly. "I…need to be alone."

He smiled and nodded. "Of course," he said. "I will be in back."

"Thank you," she said softly. She seemed sad.

He nodded at her again, then walked through a door at the back of the church. As soon as he was out of sight, he took out his cell phone and quickly dialed the hotline. She may not have come to kill anyone, but as a civilian, he had his duties…

~X~

"You know, if her grandfather was a surgeon, he would have been more capable of keeping her alive than the average child molester," Reid said thoughtfully. "Given that, it's more likely that she was younger than four when it started."

"And that helps us _how_?" asked Morgan, raising his eyebrows at Reid.

"Well, it doesn't," Reid admitted. "However, the abuse would have left significant scars…She may not be physically capable of giving birth - if she goes into labor, both she and her child could die."

"Again, that helps us _how_?" JJ asked.

"It doesn't help us _find_ her, but it _does_ give us something to help us talk her down when we do," Reid said.

"In other words, it doesn't help us at all," JJ said coldly.

"JJ," Hotch said.

JJ turned to him.

"We _are_ going to try to talk her down," he said.

JJ shook her head. "What is with you all feeling _sorry_ for her?" she demanded of her team.

"What's with you _not_?" Garcia exclaimed. "How can you not feel sorry for her, after everything that happened to her?"

"JJ, it's not about whether or not we feel sympathy for her," Hotch said before JJ could snap at Garcia; "remember, she's five months pregnant. We need to keep her baby in mind, too."

Just then, Hotch's phone rang. He picked up.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner," he said into the phone.

"I don't care what you people say, I am _not_ going to try to protect that baby," JJ grumbled. "The child of Izzy Rogers should not be born."

"That's not up to us," Morgan told JJ gently.

"Look what she did to _my_ son, in the space of fifteen minutes!" JJ exclaimed, though she kept her voice down for Hotch's sake. "What do you think she would do to that baby if it's born? Even if it isn't _born_ a monster, she'll definitely _make_ it one!"

"We're going to find her _before_ that happens," Rossi told JJ.

"Thank you," Hotch said into his phone, and he hung up and turned back to the team. "Just got a tip from the hotline," he told them. "Apparently, a Father Daniels just met Izzy when she walked into his church."

"_Church_?" repeated Rossi, his brow furrowed. "Why would she be in a _church_?"

"Well, where do people go when they have nothing to live for and no one to turn to?" Morgan asked.

"She has her child," Rossi argued.

"She tried to stop killing for her child's sake and failed," Morgan pointed out; "maybe she thinks there's no point anymore."

The team members all glanced at each other.

"It's worth a shot," Hotch said; "let's go."

~X~

Once Father Daniel was gone, Izzy hesitated, glancing around the church nervously. She had never been in a church, though she knew plenty about them.

Well, she might have _bombed_ a church at some point, but still…

People came to this place to find peace, or to seek forgiveness for their sins. Izzy wasn't sure if she wanted only the former or both, but the huge, silent room had an almost sacred feel to it, even for her - it truly _felt_ like a place where both of those things could be found.

She couldn't think of a calmer, more peaceful place to die.

She slowly walked up to the alter, knelt down in front of it, and turned her face upwards to look at the giant crucifix hanging behind it. For several whole minutes, she was still.

"Dear God," she finally said aloud, softly. "Heh…I don't even know why I'm here. I don't believe you exist. Where were you when I was a child? Why would you abandon me to such a cruel fate?" Tears welled in her eyes. "If you _do_ exist…then why did you do this to me?" she asked, her soft, sad voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't _ask_ for this. I had no choice. Why didn't you save me before I lost myself?"

She closed her eyes against her tears, reached back, and slowly took out her gun. She held it in front of her, looked at it, then looked back up.

"I know I've done things that people say are bad," she said. "When I die…will I go to hell? Don't you think I've suffered enough? I never wanted this life. Evil is just…all I have left." She narrowed her eyes, and a bit of anger crept into her tone. "And what about this child?" she asked. "I could _never_ care for a child, not on my own." She saddened again. "Why did you take the only person who ever cared for me?" she asked, tearful once more. "Why did you take away this child's father - the only one who could ever have cared for _it_?" She sighed and looked down at her gun again. "I'll probably be doing it a favor by making sure it's never born," she said softly, almost to herself. "At the very least, I know I'll be doing the _world_ a favor by leaving _it_. Even if none of the other people I killed were monsters, this way, I'll know for sure that I killed at least two in my lifetime."

She brought the gun to her head, pressing the barrel against the spot just above her right ear, and looked up again.

"Please, God," she whispered. "All I want…all I've _ever_ wanted…is to find peace. I just want my pain to end…and…I want to be with Matthew again, if that's not too much to ask. Please don't punish me for the things I've done; I've been punished enough…don't you think?"

She closed her eyes and put her finger on the trigger.

Just before she blew her brains out, the doors opened behind her, and a voice called to her, using a name she thought she had killed long ago:

"Jessica, no!"


	9. A Different Choice

The BAU team (minus Garcia) got ready to face Izzy, just outside Father Daniel's church.

"Keep your weapons holstered unless it's absolutely necessary to draw them," Hotch reminded his team as they strapped on bulletproof vests. "She most likely _is_ armed, but our goal is to talk her down - we can't make her feel like she's cornered."

"Even though she _will_ be," JJ muttered.

"JJ," Hotch said sternly, looking at her.

She met his eyes.

"Can I count on you to keep a level head for this?" Hotch asked her. "If not, then you shouldn't go in with us."

"I can manage," JJ said in a brittle tone of voice.

Hotch sighed but nodded, conceding (and praying he wasn't making a mistake).

"Alright," Hotch said when all five of them were ready; "let's go."

He led the team to the doors and pushed them open. Inside, there was no one present except Izzy, kneeling at the alter…and holding a gun to her head.

Hotch sprang towards her, running as fast as he could, the rest of his team right behind him. In desperation, he called out to her, using the name he knew would get her attention:

"Jessica, no!"

In one swift, fluid motion, almost unimpaired by her pregnancy, Izzy stood up, turned, and pointed her gun at the approaching group, ready to fire.

Everyone stopped in their tracks, just a few feet from the steps leading up to the alter. By chance, the team formed a half-circle: Rossi to Izzy's far left, then Morgan, JJ in the middle, then Reid, and Hotch to Izzy's far right.

Izzy swept her eyes across the group, her gun always pointing in the direction she was looking. Then, she registered JJ's presence.

"Oh," she said to JJ, smiling nastily, "it's you. We meet again…apparently _before_ our date in hell together."

None of the agents said anything. This was the Izzy Rogers they remembered: cold, cruel, mocking, and untethered. She even looked exactly the same as she had when they had first heard about her.

Except that this time, they knew she was pregnant…_and_ it showed.

"Is this your team, Jennifer?" Izzy asked JJ mockingly. "What was it, the something-or-other…?"

"Yes," Hotch answered for JJ; "we're the Behavioral Analysis Unit - the BAU, for short."

"_That's_ the one," Izzy said, turning her evil smile (and her gun) on Hotch. She started panning her aim back and forth across the team, aiming for each of their heads for a split second before shifting. "How'd you find me?" she asked them mockingly.

"The priest called the hotline," Reid said.

Izzy turned her gun and gaze on him. "Oh?" she asked. "I didn't know priests had cell phones." She laughed wickedly. "Of course, I've never met one before tonight. Still, you guys move _fast_. I'm impressed," she said sarcastically.

Rossi sighed. "Jessica," he began.

"_Don't call me that_!" Izzy shrieked, aiming her gun at Rossi, her eyes wide. "_That's not my name_!" She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. Then, she narrowed her eyes and started shifting her aim across the five agents again. "How do you even know about that name?" she demanded.

"Izzy," Hotch said.

She turned her gun on him.

"We know what happened to you," he told her gently.

A twisted smile crossed Izzy's face, and she looked at JJ. "Finally talked to your little boy, did you, Jennifer?" she taunted. "How is he?"

"How do you _think_?" JJ snarled. "You _traumatized_ him! He doesn't play anymore, doesn't smile anymore - he hardly even _speaks_ anymore! All he does is eat, sleep, hide from people, and draw circles!"

"Draw circles?" Izzy repeated, raising an eyebrow coolly. "Huh. That's interesting. I didn't think he would remember the circle." Her eyes narrowed again. "You should be _thanking_ me, you ungrateful bitch," she sneered. "I spared him a lot of pain…and I spared _you_ a lot of trouble. I spared you ever having to give him the sex talk - isn't that what all good parents dread?" she asked mockingly.

"_You_-!" JJ snarled, putting a hand to her gun and stepping forward.

"JJ," Hotch said, holding out a hand to stop her.

Izzy smiled.

JJ stopped, but still glared at Izzy. "He was too young to hear _any_ of that!" she shouted.

"_Too young_?" Izzy exclaimed furiously. "_TOO YOUNG_? _I_ was barely more than _half_ his age when I learned all of it the hard way!" She shook her head angrily. "Don't you _dare_ tell me that boy was too young," she spat contemptuously.

"Izzy," Reid said gently.

She turned her gun on him.

"If you were less than two years old, it would have been physically impossible for you to have survived," Reid told her.

She smiled sarcastically. "I have the scars to prove it, wanna see 'em?" she asked nastily, mockingly putting a hand to her belt buckle, her other hand still holding the gun.

"I'm not saying the abuse didn't happen," Reid said quickly; "I'm just saying you were probably significantly older than you remember. You would've had to have been at least three, maybe even four - _definitely_ older than JJ's son."

Izzy's twisted, sarcastic smile widened. "Oh," she said, cruel sarcasm dripping from her voice; "well…I guess that makes it _okay_ then!"

"No!" Reid exclaimed. "No, it wasn't okay! I'm not saying it was!"

"Then what _are_ you saying?" Izzy snarled.

Reid dropped his gaze. "Nothing," he mumbled.

"Then _shut up_!" Izzy snapped. She resumed panning her aim from one side of the team to the other, her gun always in a position to kill one of them. "I know I should have died," she said coldly. "You think I didn't _want_ to? Hell, I even _tried_ to! He wouldn't _let_ me!" Her last words contained a hint of a sob. She took a moment to compose herself, then added, "If I had died, he would have had no one to hurt." She turned on JJ again. "Remember when I told you that torture is worse than murder?" she asked her. "Did you think I was speaking idly? I _knew_ what I was talking about - _from experience_!"

"We know, Izzy," Rossi said, not flinching as she turned her gun on him, "we know…and we're here to help you."

"_Help_ me?" she repeated incredulously. "How the _hell_ do you people plan on _helping_ me? By tossing me in jail again? By making me continue to _live_? You think I _want_ that?"

"Izzy, you _know_ you need to keep living," Morgan said. "Think of your baby."

Izzy's eyes widened, and she put a hand to her stomach.

"Izzy," Hotch said gently, "we know you're pregnant."

Izzy blinked, then smiled nastily again. "Wow," she said mockingly, "you people really _do_ figure out _everything_, don't you?" She snorted with contempt. "So what if I am? All that means is that if I go with you, I'll lose something else - the only thing I have left of the one person in my entire life who ever_ cared_ about me!"

"So Matthew Downs _is_ the father?" JJ half-asked coldly.

Izzy glared at her. "Of course he is," she hissed. "What do you take me for, a slut? After everything that happened to me, do you really think I would do that?" She shook her head angrily. "I never trusted _anyone_ but Matthew - in that respect, same as every other."

"What about Chris and Ollie?" JJ asked coolly.

"Oh, please," Izzy sneered. "Those two idiots? I gave them as little as I could manage - no more than I had to to control them."

"That doesn't mean you gave them _nothing_," JJ pointed out, her own tone of voice as cold as that of her foe.

Izzy's face twisted with contempt. "I only did what I had to," she spat, "and the _few_ times when I _did_ have to screw them, I made sure they were safe."

JJ opened her mouth to say something more, but Hotch silenced her with a stern glance.

There was silence for a moment; the only movement was Izzy pointing her gun, and her gaze, at each of the agents in turn, back and forth.

"Izzy," Morgan finally said, "we know you tried to stop killing for the sake of your child."

She sneered at him. "Well, I couldn't," she said coldly. "I can't help what I am."

"Izzy, you may feel that way," Rossi said, "and maybe you can't stop on your own, but that doesn't mean you _have_ to be this way; it just means you need help."

"No one can help me," Izzy snarled; "not unless they put a bullet between my eyes!"

"Izzy, you don't mean that," Hotch said; "not in your condition."

"You keep bringing up this baby," Izzy said with mocking exasperation.

"_You_ keep trying to act like you're not pregnant," JJ said, her tone still cold.

Izzy turned her gun and glare on JJ. "You got a problem, bitch?" she sneered.

"My _problem_ is the idea of _you_ having a child!" JJ snapped. "What would you do to it? Would you 'save' it, like you did my son?"

"I wouldn't raise it on _lies_, like you tried to do _yours_, that's for sure!" Izzy retorted. "I'd give birth to it and raise it _far away_ from all the dumb stories society has about life not being cruel and people not being evil!"

"Izzy, your scars won't stretch properly, like the rest of the birth canal will," Reid spoke up; "it's extremely likely that you aren't physically _capable_ of giving birth!"

"So I'd just rip open again," Izzy said mockingly. "Big deal - I've dealt with worse pain."

"No, Izzy," Reid exclaimed; "you're going to _need_ a caesarian section - if you go into labor, both you and your child will probably die!"

Izzy chuckled sarcastically. "You just don't get it, do you?" she sneered at Reid. "You keep going on and on about my child and my life, like I'm supposed to _care_!" Her eyes narrowed in a glare, and she started speaking to all five agents again. "You people think I _wanted_ this?" she demanded of them. "I _never_ wanted this! I was _terrified_ when I found out I was pregnant!" A sad smile tugged at her lips, and a film of tears coated her eyes. "Matthew was the one who reassured me," she said softly. "He knew goodness once - he said he would help me. He said that…there was nothing we couldn't handle, as long as we were together." She closed her eyes against her tears and composed herself; when she opened her eyes again, they were back to being cold and cruel. "Seems he was more right than he knew," she went on, her tone once again mocking and angry. "When we were together, during that whole ordeal at the bank, you people couldn't even _touch_ us. It wasn't until after we separated that you were able to take us down." She shook her head, and while her anger didn't fade, tears welled in her eyes again. "I _never_ should have let him go without me," she said, her voice shaking. "I should have gone with him. _He_ was the one who didn't want me to - said that two explosions would be too much for me, given my…condition."

"Izzy," Rossi said soothingly, "don't blame yourself."

"I _don't_ blame myself!" she snapped, turning her gun on Rossi again, more wrathful and deadly-looking than ever. "I blame all of _you_!"

"Fair enough," Rossi said gently.

Izzy turned her furious glare on each of them, along with her gun, back and forth. "Which one of you killed him?" she demanded, her voice shaking with rage.

No one answered.

"_Which one of you killed him_?" Izzy demanded again. When there was still no response, she turned her gun back on Rossi. "Was it _you_?" she asked furiously.

"Izzy," Hotch said.

Izzy whirled around to face him.

"It was me," Hotch confessed. "_I_ killed Matthew Downs."

Izzy gave a twisted, sarcastic smile and nodded mockingly. "Hmm," she said. She turned back to the others. "And which one of you was he trying to save?" she asked them. "He was trying to save one of you, right? Which one was it?"

"Me, Izzy," Morgan said. "He did it to save _me_."

"Hmm," she said again, again giving a twisted smile and a mocking nod, her gun aimed squarely between Morgan's eyes. "What's your name?" she asked him.

"Special Agent Derek Morgan," Morgan replied.

"Derek," she said. "Tell me…_Why_ was Matthew trying to kill you?"

Morgan blinked. "Because he was a-"

"_No_!" Izzy snarled with contempt. "Do _not_ give me _any_ of your self-righteous _crap_! Tell the truth! Why was he trying to kill you?"

Morgan hesitated.

Izzy smiled cruelly again. "Let me put it this way," she said mockingly: "Which one of you attacked first? Him…or _you_?"

Morgan's eyes widened. "…Me," he admitted.

Izzy smiled nastily and nodded again.

"Izzy, what was I _supposed_ to do, let him get away?" Morgan asked.

"What was _he_ supposed to do, let you catch him?" she countered angrily. "Leave me, alone and pregnant, with a child I never even _wanted_?" She shook her head furiously. "He had no way of knowing that you were going to arrest me," she snarled; "he had no way of knowing that you had any _idea_ where I was! He was trying to come back to _me_!" She took a breath and calmed down slightly. "Tell me, Derek," she said mockingly, "are you a father?"

"No," Morgan replied.

Izzy resumed turning on each of the agents one by one. "What about the rest of you?" she asked. "Do any of you have kids?" Her eyes lingered on JJ for a moment. "Besides _you_, I mean," she added cruelly.

"Izzy," Hotch said.

She turned on him.

"_I_ have a child," he told her; "a son."

She nodded again, smiling sarcastically. "What's _your_ name?" she asked him.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner," Hotch replied; "Hotch, for short."

"_Aaron_," Izzy said mockingly. "Tell me: When the mother of your child was still pregnant with your son, if someone had tried to physically stop you from going back to her, would you have killed them to get through?"

Hotch closed his eyes briefly. "Yes," he admitted.

Izzy nodded again. "Except it would have been perfectly legal for _you_ to do it," she sneered; "it just wasn't legal for _Matthew_!"

"Izzy, it wasn't like that," Hotch said.

"_What_ wasn't like that?" Izzy snapped. "So Matthew set a bomb first, big deal! He was going to be a _father_! He was the only one who _wanted_ this baby! He was the only one who would have been able to _care_ for this baby!"

"Izzy, we didn't know you were pregnant," Morgan said, trying to calm her down.

"_It doesn't make a difference_!" Izzy shrieked. "_You MURDERED him_!" She lowered her voice and added, "And you didn't give it any more thought than _I_ would have, _did you_?"

"Izzy," Hotch said gently, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're _sorry_," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You're _sorry_ - of course you would say you're sorry!" She shook her head disgustedly. "You're not sorry!"

"I am," Hotch said.

"Oh yeah?" she snapped. She quickly swept her gaze across the group of five. "Tell me how he died," she said in a low voice.

No one said anything.

"_Tell me how he died_," she snarled. "I want to know _exactly_ how it happened." She turned her gun on Morgan. "Starting with _you_," she said to him.

Morgan sighed. "After Downs set the bomb-" he began.

"_No_!" Izzy shouted. "Don't you _dare_ try to impersonalize this! Call him by his name!"

"Okay," Morgan said gently. "After Matthew set the bomb, he tried to run. I saw him running, and I chased after him. The chase took us down an alley. The alley was blocked off halfway through by a fence. He tried to climb it. I caught him and pulled him down. We struggled. He overpowered me." Izzy smiled. "He pinned me against a dumpster by the throat," Morgan went on; "he had his elbow pressed against my neck, against the side of the dumpster. He was choking me."

Izzy turned her gun on Hotch. "Now you," she said.

"I went after Agent Morgan," Hotch said. "I came around the corner and saw Downs-" Izzy's glare sharpened. "I saw _Matthew_ trying to choke him," Hotch amended. "As soon as I saw what was happening, I shot Matthew in the head…to save my agent's life."

"You shot him in the head," she repeated, softly and mockingly. "Just like that, huh? Didn't hesitate, not even for a second? Never considered that you _didn't have to kill him_?" She ended in a roar.

"Izzy, what else could I have done?" Hotch asked.

"Well, let's see," Izzy said sarcastically. "Maybe you could have tried, oh, I don't know, _tackling_ him?" She looked between Hotch and Morgan. "You both look pretty strong," she said mockingly; "Matthew was stronger than either one of you on your own, but you should have been able to take him down _together_, right?" She turned back to Hotch. "You could even have shot him somewhere _other_ than the head," she pointed out. "You could have tried to _cripple_ him. You could have shot him in the arm or the leg, and _then_ taken him down."

There was silence for a minute.

"You didn't even _think_ of that, did you?" Izzy asked Hotch coolly. "None of that occurred to you until I said it just now, did it?"

Hotch lowered his gaze.

"_Did it_?" Izzy demanded.

Hotch met her eyes again, remorsefully. "No, Izzy," he confessed; "no, that never occurred to me."

Izzy nodded, scowling. "And you think _I'm_ evil," she hissed. She turned to the rest of the team again. "Well, I am," she said, "but at least _I'm_ _honest_ about it! _None_ of you are _any_ better than me! You just have the _law_ on your side - that's the _only_ difference! Deep down, you're all just like me!"

JJ's eyes widened, and she made a soft "Oh" sound. No one noticed at the time, though.

"And now," Izzy went on icily, "you say you want to _help_ me. Why don't you go help _yourselves_? Go clap your own goddamn selves in handcuffs, all five of you!" She breathed heavily from rage. "I thought I was just going to kill _myself_ tonight," she said; "instead, it seems I'll be able to die _and_ avenge Matthew's death!"

"Izzy, it doesn't have to end like this," Rossi said gently.

"Yes it does," Izzy spat. "It always did. I should have died _long_ ago, but every time I _should_ have died, I ended up living, just so I could be in _more_ pain! I'm sick of it!"

"Your life doesn't have to be all pain, Izzy," Rossi said.

"Says the man who wants to put me back in jail," Izzy taunted.

"Izzy, you don't have to go to jail," Reid said. "You just need help. You qualify for a verdict of innocent by reason of insanity-"

"I'm not crazy," Izzy spat.

"Izzy, all that means is that you don't understand the difference between right and wrong," Reid said gently. "You may _know_ what _society_ says is right and wrong, but if you really, truly, genuinely don't understand or agree with it, you qualify. You just need _help_."

"Let us help you, Izzy," Morgan said. "Let us make up for Matthew's death. It doesn't have to be like this."

"_You_ don't have to be like this, Izzy," Hotch added. "You _can_ stop - you just need help."

"I don't want to live!" Izzy shouted. "What do I have left? A miserable life that just won't end? A child that never should have even been _conceived_? Why would I want to go on living when I can end it all, here and now?"

"Izzy," JJ said softly, walking up to her.

"JJ," Hotch said, holding out a hand again to prevent her from walking any further.

"It's okay, Hotch," JJ said, not looking away from Izzy, who had turned her gun on her.

Hotch let JJ pass.

JJ walked up the steps to the alter, until she was just inches away from the end of Izzy's gun. She looked Izzy steadily in the eyes, and slowly, she reached for her own gun, drew it, bent down, and gently set it on the floor beside her.

"What are you doing?" Izzy asked contemptuously.

JJ straightened up, still looking Izzy in the eye, raised her foot, and heel-kicked her gun behind her so it bounced down the steps, the thuds muffled by the carpet.

"Izzy," JJ said softly, "listen to me. We're not here to hurt you; we're here to _help_ you. You've been hurt enough, and we all know it."

"You want to help me?" Izzy sneered. "Go pick up your gun, aim it between my eyes, and pull the trigger - that's the _only_ way you can help me. Only death can end my pain."

"You're wrong, Izzy," JJ said sadly. "Life isn't supposed to be about pain. It's true that no one goes their entire life without getting hurt at some point, but that's not what life is _about_. Life is about finding _happiness_. Life is about learning, and growing, and finding your place in the world - a place where you're happy, and where you belong."

"I was happy _once_," Izzy said coldly; "only once, in my entire life. Matthew and I were in love, and his love for me, and my love for him, made me happy." She looked away and added softly, "We were…going to get married…after we were done." She looked up again angrily. "The day after he was _killed_!" she shouted.

Reid's brow furrowed. "Why would you and Downs-?"

Izzy turned towards Reid and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed in the enormous room. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi quickly drew their guns, but JJ gestured for them to stop. "Hold your fire!" she told them.

The team was shocked into obeying.

Reid straightened up shakily; he had ducked instinctively at the sound of the gunfire.

Izzy laughed nastily at his fearful reaction, a wicked smile on her face. Then her expression darkened, and she swept her gaze across the group of agents. "The next time one of you calls Matthew by his last name, I will _not_ be shooting a decoration," she told them dangerously.

Everyone turned and saw that Izzy had shot a candle some distance behind Reid; her accuracy was frightening.

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan put their guns away.

"How did you know I didn't shoot him?" Izzy asked JJ.

"You aimed too high," JJ answered.

Izzy smiled sarcastically. "Well, damn you," she said.

"Izzy," Reid said.

Izzy turned back to Reid. "Be _very careful_ what you say," she warned.

"Why would you and Matthew have gotten married?" asked Reid. "That…doesn't make any sense."

Izzy looked at him coldly for a minute. "The only reason I'm not going to shoot you for that is because that was what _I_ thought, too," she said in a low voice. "It was _his_ idea, not mine." She closed her eyes, fighting back her tears again. "He said that what mattered was what it symbolized," she said softly: "That we would always be together, no matter what." She opened her eyes, cold fury crossing her face again. "No matter what," she repeated bitterly. She turned her lethal glare (and gun) on Hotch. "And then _you_ _murdered_ him, you hypocritical son of a bitch!" she shouted.

JJ put her hand on Izzy's gun and quickly turned it on herself. "Izzy," she said gently, trying to get the situation back under control, "maybe Hotch was wrong to kill Matthew, but you need to understand, we see a lot of monsters in our line of work - each of us has been personally targeted by one at some point or another, some of us multiple times. It may be that we're jaded when it comes to killing the people we hunt, _especially_ when they try to hurt one of _us_."

"I don't care _how_ you justify it," Izzy spat; "the fact remains that the only time I was ever happy was when I was with Matthew, and now that he's gone, my life is just that much more painful - now that I know what I'll never have again!"

"Maybe you _can_ be happy again," JJ said. "You don't have to give up."

"You think I'll find happiness in _prison_?" Izzy sneered.

"Izzy, we're not going to let you go to jail," JJ said gently. "We're going to make sure you get the help you need."

"Even if someone _could_ help me, you have no control over where I go after you arrest me," Izzy spat. "You have no say in whether I go to jail or not."

"We're not _obligated_ to," JJ said, "but we can if we choose to…and _I_ _will_."

Izzy's eyes widened - as did the eyes of the four men in the room.

"I will tell your story to _everyone_ who has _any_ say in what happens to you," JJ told Izzy, softly and honestly. "I will testify at _all_ of your trials in your defense, even overseas. I will fight with every resource I have to get you a retrial for your convictions here in the states. I will do _everything_ in my power to help you."

Izzy was stunned for a moment (as was everyone else). Then, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why would you do all that for me?" she asked. "I thought you hated me, after what I did to your kid."

"I _do_ hate you," JJ said, her tone still gentle. "I hate you with every fiber of my being, for what you did to my son. I doubt I'll ever forgive you for it. I want to punish you for what you did. I want to _kill_ you, for hurting him like that."

"Then why don't you?" Izzy snarled.

JJ closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she opened her eyes again, met Izzy's suspicious glare, and answered, "Because I'm not you."

Izzy's eyes widened.

"You once asked me what made us so different," JJ said. "I didn't have an answer for you then, but I do now: What makes us different is that when someone hurts me, or someone I love, I don't have to seek revenge in blood. I can _choose_ to, and I often _want_ to…but I can also take the high road, and do the right thing. What I want and what's right aren't always the same, but I know which is which, and I can choose what's right. And you can, too, Izzy," JJ added; "you may not be able to find your way on your own, but if you get help, you can change."

She paused. Izzy said nothing.

"So even though I _want_ to punish you, for what you did to my son," JJ went on, "I know in my heart that that's not the right thing to do. I know that you've suffered enough punishment already. I know that more punishment is not what you need - what you need is _help_. So I will help you, with everything I've got. But Izzy…" She sighed. "I _can't_ help you…if you aren't willing to help yourself."

Izzy blinked.

"You have a choice now, Izzy," JJ told her: "You can choose to do what you want to do - you can choose to avenge Matthew's death, kill one, maybe two of us, and then die, and take your unborn child with you…Or, you can choose to do the right thing - you can choose to drop your gun and let us help you, for your own sake, and for the sake of your child. But it's _your_ _choice_, Izzy. No one's going to make it for you."

"I made my choice long ago," Izzy said, but while her words were firm, her anger had faded somewhat, and she still didn't shoot any of them. "It wasn't even a choice, really."

"Izzy," Hotch said, "it's _always_ a choice."

Izzy pointed her gun at Hotch. "What choice did I have?" she demanded, angry once more.

"You could have told someone," Rossi said.

"_Told someone_?" Izzy exclaimed, turning her gun on him. "If I had told _anyone_, he would have beaten me to death! He always said he would!" Tears welled in her eyes again. She took a moment to fight them down, then went on, "And even if the cops _had_ saved me from him, what of it? What would you have done to him?" she asked them mockingly. "Tossed him in jail for thirty, forty, fifty years? Maybe even long enough to let him die of old age in prison? Bah!" she spat. "You wouldn't have given him what he deserved! You would have given him food, water, clothes, a place to sleep, a roof over his head…you would have made him _comfortable_, until his dying day! I've _been_ in prison, and I know - it's a lot more comfortable than what he deserved!" Her face twisted with hatred and disgust. "You wouldn't have _killed_ him, because _he_ never _murdered_ anybody," she snarled; "and even if you _had_ killed him, you wouldn't have made it _hurt_! You wouldn't have returned _any_ of the suffering _he_ inflicted on _me_, no matter _what_ the verdict! _Would you_?" she demanded.

There was a pause.

"Most likely not," Reid finally admitted.

"Izzy," JJ said softly, gently putting a hand on Izzy's gun and turning it so that it was pointing back at her again, "none of us will ever say that your grandfather didn't deserve what he got. _I_ think he did. But that doesn't have to determine what choice you make now."

"I chose evil," Izzy said flatly, glaring at JJ. "I chose it, and that's that."

"It's never too late to make a different choice, Izzy," JJ told her. "You can _always_ make a different choice…and if you can show me, here and now, that you're willing to do so, then I swear on my son's life, I will do _everything_ in my power to help you."

There was a tense silence for a minute. Slowly, Izzy's armor of cruelty started to crack.

"It hurts," she finally whispered. "It hurts when I don't kill. When I go too long without hurting someone, all the pain he inflicted on me…it all comes back."

"Izzy, the pain is entirely psychosomatic," Reid piped up; "it's not real, it's self-inflicted. With help, you'll be able to-"

"Do you _ever_ shut up?" Izzy asked him coldly, turning her gun on him, her eyes cruel and frozen once more.

Reid shut up.

Izzy glanced at the others. "Does he _ever_ shut up?" she asked them.

"Izzy, this isn't about him," JJ said softly; "this is about _you_."

Izzy smiled mockingly. "I'll take that as a 'no'," she sneered. "How about I get him out of your hair for you?" She took aim.

"Izzy!" JJ said, stepping in front of Izzy's gun, blocking the potential bullet's path. "You don't have to do this," she told Izzy softly.

Izzy said nothing, and again, there was silence.

"I know you feel like you're trapped," JJ finally went on sympathetically. "I know you've suffered so much that you don't think there's any point in trying to be good. I know you believe there's evil in everyone…and maybe you're right," she added; "maybe there _is_ evil in everyone. But you know what _I_ think that means? I think it means that everyone has _good_ in them, too…even you."

"Even my grandfather?" Izzy asked, her armor cracking again, though her voice was still sarcastic.

"He made a choice, too," JJ said gently. "He chose to be a monster, just like you think _you_ did. But he always could have made a different choice - every time he abused you, he made a choice, and it was no less of a choice the thousandth time than it was the first."

Izzy was rendered silent, the shield of frozen evil in her eyes slowly fading.

"Don't be like him, Izzy," JJ pleaded softly. "Don't keep doing this. Make a different choice."

Izzy swallowed. "Do you really think I can?" she asked. Her anger, coldness, and cruelty had all but fallen away; mostly, she just looked like a sad, lost little girl, unsure whether or not to trust the person who was offering to guide her home.

"I _know_ you can, Izzy," JJ told her reassuringly. "It won't be easy to _keep_ doing it, but I _will_ make sure you get help, if you come with us now."

Izzy looked at JJ for a long minute. Then, she turned her eyes - just her eyes, not her gun - to Rossi, and looked at him for a minute.

He nodded slightly but said nothing.

Izzy slowly turned her head to look at Morgan for a minute. He nodded, too, and said nothing.

She looked over JJ's shoulder at Reid. He, too, gave her only a slight nod.

After a minute, she looked at Hotch. He met her eyes and nodded wordlessly.

Izzy was still for another minute. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head around to look up at the enormous crucifix hanging behind her. Morgan and Hotch both took a step forward, meaning to take advantage of her turning her back, but JJ motioned for them to stop. Surprised again, they complied.

Everything was still. Seconds trickled slowly by.

At last, Izzy slowly started to turn her head back. She turned her gaze downwards as she did, eventually looking down at her swollen belly…at the baby she carried, that had been conceived as a product of her and Matthew's love for each other, in the one truly happy time in her life.

At last, she looked up and met JJ's eyes again. The wall of icy cruelty was gone, as was the despair.

JJ nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Slowly, very slowly, Izzy lowered her gun. She allowed her hands to drop to her sides, then released her grip on the gun so that it bounced on the floor beside her.

JJ nodded again. "Well done," she said without a trace of sarcasm.

Izzy said nothing.

JJ stepped forward, walking around to be behind Izzy. "I'm sorry," she said gently, "but I have to do this, for now."

"I know," Izzy said, sounding on the verge of tears.

"They won't have to stay for too long," JJ told her, putting her in handcuffs as gently as she could. "I promise, I'll make sure of that - no matter what it takes, Jessica."

"That's not my name," Izzy said softly.

JJ finished putting Izzy in handcuffs, then walked back around her to look Izzy in the eye, one hand on her left arm. "It was your name before you chose evil," JJ said. "I know it probably brings back memories of pain and despair, but maybe it doesn't have to mean that. Maybe it can just mean that you can still make a choice."

Izzy blinked back her tears.

"Come with us now, Jessica," JJ said gently, and she started leading Izzy out of the church.

Izzy followed. When she and JJ passed the rest of the team, they fell into step behind her.

And so, Jessica Reynolds, also known as Izzy Rogers, took her first step away from the darkness she had embraced for so long. She didn't know if she was really going to get help, or if she could be saved even if she did; all she knew was that she was making a different choice…and for the first time in her life, she felt a tiny spark of hope.

Maybe there _was_ good in the world, after all.

~THE END~


End file.
